


Crouching Toriel, Hidden Cougar

by Kara_Dreamer



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Awkwardness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, First Love, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Frisk Needs A Hug, Frottage, Mute Frisk, Non-Binary Frisk, Older Woman/Younger Man, Post-Coital Cuddling, Post-Pacifist Route, Romance, Sexual Frustration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2018-06-07 18:41:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6819640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kara_Dreamer/pseuds/Kara_Dreamer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Right, I am admitting right here, right now: the only reason I'm writing this story is because I want some excuse to use that title.</p><p>Sans, after asking Toriel late one night for help with his baking, finds that Toriel is eager to help—<i>remarkably</i> eager to help. As a result he's forced to confront the difficulties with expressing affection and intimacy that he has papered over with humour in the past, while Toriel finds herself in the grips of feelings long subsumed after decades of self-willed exile.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Royal Surprise

Sans was stretched out in pleasant lassitude on his bed, rolled onto his stomach and about to start on the second chapter of  _ QED and the Men Who Made It,  _ when he heard the knock on the door. He didn’t trouble to stir or even to look up, not with his brother in the house to do those things for him.

“I’LL GET IT!” came Papyrus’s tenor cry from the living room. Sans went on reading.

“Oh! Your majesty! Ambassador!” Papyrus cried again, and this time Sans clapped the book shut in surprise.  _ Toriel? Frisk? _ he thought.  _ What are they doing here? _

“This is indeed a pleasant surprise!” Papyrus went on as Sans hastily jammed the QED book under his pillow and pulled out a MAD magazine. (One of the great joys that Sans had found in the Overworld, a joy scarcely known to him before: no issue of MAD had ever been lucky enough to survive a journey to the Underground to wash up in the garbage dump with any legibility intact.) He opened the magazine upside-down, quickly righted it, and then slumped back onto the bed, pretending to be engrossed with “Spy vs. Spy”.

“My dear Papyrus! You need not bow to me,” said a deep, resonant, feminine voice. Amazing, thought Sans, how quiet and mild that voice sounded, yet two rooms away he could still hear every word, crystal clear in its articulation. “How many times must I remind you that there is no need for any formality with me nor with my child? Consider me not as your monarch but as your friend.”

“Y-Yes! Of course, Toriel! And you as well, Frisk!” Sans heard Frisk’s cheerful vocalization of greeting. “What’s that you’re saying, young human? Now give me a moment; I’ve been studying your sign language, and the great Papyrus can surely puzzle this out...ah! You’re saying that you love your friend Papyrus and you want me to give you a hug and a ride?” Frisk assented with another cheery sound. “Well then, little human, up you go!” Frisk laughed delightedly and Sans knew that Papyrus had hoisted the young ambassador onto his shoulders. Toriel laughed too, in that subdued, musical way of hers that Sans had come to regard as almost the favorite of the many laughs he had heard from her in the years of their idiosyncratic friendship Underground. It wasn't the loudest or the longest of her laughs, Sans reflected, but it was perhaps the most charming…

Toriel spoke again, bringing his train of thought to an abrupt halt. “Is Sans indisposed?” she asked Papyrus. “I saw his scooter out front and assumed he was in. I confess that I decided upon this impromptu visit largely to see him, if that should be possible.”

“Sans  _ had _ told me he was planning to spend the afternoon reading,” Papyrus replied. “Knowing my lazy brother, though, he’s probably sound asleep.”

“Oh!” Disappointment colored Toriel’s voice. “Oh dear. Well, in that case, perhaps my visit was ill-advised. Thank you for your hospitality, Papyrus, but I suppose that now my child and I should take our leave—”

Sans flung the MAD magazine onto the bed and sprinted to the door of his bedroom, stopping just short of it to take a deep breath and brush down his well-worn blue hoodie. Then he slowly opened the door, hands stuck carelessly in the hoodie’s pockets, affecting a yawn as he walked to the living room.

“Hey, Papyrus, is there any—oh, hello, Tori, hi there, Frisk,” said Sans in a somnolent drawl as he ambled into the room. “I didn’t hear you come in. Must’ve nodded off.”

“Just as I suspected!” Papyrus declared, raising a bony index finger in triumph. “Fast asleep! I told you, Toriel. Sans probably didn’t even get through one page of whatever it was!”

“Hehe. Got me there, bro. You always  _ knows _ when I  _ doze. _ ” Papyrus responded to this with an indignant snort, but Frisk (still atop him) giggled, and Toriel laughed—a sharper, bleating laugh this time, a laugh that Sans loved to hear because he knew it meant that his wordplay had taken her a little by surprise.

Frisk patted Papyrus’s shoulder, signaling that they wished to be put down. Papyrus obliged, lowering the child with utmost care to the floor with a hearty, “Hope you enjoyed the ride, young Frisk!” Then the child addressed Sans in sign.

“Oh, uh...it’s okay, Tori, I’ll get this one,” said Sans, focusing on Frisk’s hands. He’d been striving, as had all Frisk’s close friends, to learn ASL and spare the ambassador the need for laborious handwritten communication. Toriel had picked up the language with effortless facility but the others were slower to learn. Still, both Sans and Papyrus— _ especially _ the indefatigably studious Papyrus—were making steady progress.

“Okay...you’re saying that you love me too and also want a hug? Of course, kiddo, c’mere.” Frisk put their arms around Sans, who after a bit of hesitation returned the gesture with a somewhat timid embrace.  _ I’m not great with this stuff, _ Sans had to concede to himself,  _ even after months of practice _ . Even the lesser degree of intimacy in a handshake made him feel vaguely uncomfortable but he’d figured out how to get around that with whoopie cushions and joybuzzers and the like, making a little joke of his own discomfiture.

He didn’t have any of those problems with Papyrus, but that was different. With Papyrus, everything was different.

Frisk finally released him—Sans permitted himself a relieved exhalation—then signed to him, “Mom wants to talk to you.” They then produced a book of Junior Jumbles from their pocket to show to Papyrus, who practically squeed in delight before pulling Frisk over to the living-room couch to work on it.

“You wanna talk to me, Tori?” Sans tilted his head up to look at Toriel. “What’s on your mind?”

“Well, Sans,” replied Toriel, with a little giggle. This wasn’t a laugh usual for her, that nervous titter; Sans had only ever heard anything like it when Toriel was trying to pass light-heartedly over something that made her feel uncomfortable, like an inadvertent reference to her ex-husband. “I, ah, just happened to be passing by your house while enjoying the afternoon sunshine with Frisk, and I saw your scooter out front and thought…” Again the nervous titter. “I thought that maybe you would be available for a visit, albeit an unannounced one.”

Sans smiled broadly. “Tori, you’re welcome any time here, you know that. You’re the  _ queen _ after all.”

“Now, Sans, don’t start sounding like your excessively courteous brother here.”

“That’s  _ right _ Sans!” Papyrus piped up from the couch, in a high and querulous voice. “It is the queen’s wish that you  _ never _ sound like me!”

“But anyway, Tori, I don’t mind you or Frisk dropping by any time, whatever the reason,” Sans went on. “Hell, even at three in the morning I’m probably awake.”

“I am glad to hear that, Sans!” Toriel beamed, the tips of her fangs glinting in the afternoon light as she smiled, an effect that always caught Sans’s gaze. “The particular reason I have today is this. You may remember that you had texted me two nights ago about wanting help with your baking some day because you were having trouble…”

_ Oh, yeah, I did do that, didn’t I,  _ Sans recalled. He’d come home from Grillby’s, tipsy and with a irrepressible craving for chocolate cream pie, and with Muffet’s bakery closed the best he could do was try to make it himself when he got home. But the crust was mealy and the filling didn’t set properly, and he ended up tipping his creation into the trash and tapping out a slightly boozy SOS to Toriel, lamenting his failure and asking for help.  _ What was I thinking, pestering her like that after midnight? _ But she’d answered promptly, promising help at a more convenient time. Sans idly wondered why she’d been awake that late.

“Oh, yeah, sorry about that, Tori,” Sans said. “It’s nothing really. You don’t need to waste any  _ thyme  _ on me. Or any cinnamon or nutmeg either.”

There it came again, that bleating laugh that always tickled Sans’s heart. He heard another groan from Papyrus and a chuckle from Frisk. “Oh, Sans, you dear!” said Toriel. “But I would  _ love  _ to instruct you. I am a teacher, after all. I am sure that with even only a few hours of guidance from me you can make as delicious a pie crust as anything I can bake.”

“Heck, Tori, you know that’s impossible.”

“Sans!” She fixed him with a glare and an expression of mock disapproval on her long face, but the warm brown eyes twinkled with amusement. “Are you telling  _ me,  _ the Queen of Monsters  _ and _ the schoolmaster of Ebottsville Academy, that she lacks the ability to teach one of her dearest friends how properly to bake a pie?”

“Well…” Sans hoped that the color of his cheekbones betrayed no embarrassment. “If you put it that way, Tori. I’ll do my best.”

“I know you will, Sans. Do you wish to come to my house and use my kitchen? Or would you prefer me to visit you here again?”

“Um…would you might coming here again, Tori? Saturday morning, maybe? Papyrus can keep Frisk company if they want to come too. What do you say, Frisk?”

From the couch Frisk cheered and clapped their hands, while Papyrus grinned and waved. “Nyeh! I would be delighted to keep the ambassador entertained! I can show them all of my new puzzle books! There are some that, I confess, have even the great Papyrus at a loss…” He turned to Frisk and asked in a lower voice, “Have you ever heard of a puzzle called ‘kakuro’?” Frisk shook their head.

Toriel smiled. “Shall we make it a date then?” Sans blinked his eye-sockets at her choice of word. “Saturday morning at, shall we say, ten o’clock?”

“It’s a d—sure, Tori, I’m game,” he replied, smiling back.

“Excellent!” She clasped her paws together. “Frisk, my child, I think we should leave Papyrus and Sans to the rest of their afternoon.”

Frisk nodded and signed his assent, then gave Papyrus a quick hug and the “ILU” sign.

“Goodbye, young human!” Papyrus said. “I look forward to solving the mysteries of kakuro with your assistance!”

“See ya soon, kiddo,” said Sans when Frisk came to him to bid their farewell. After their sign and their hug, Frisk gave Sans an enigmatic nod, turned his head to look at Toriel, then turned back to Sans, this time with a curious smile and a quick flurry of signs.

Sans repeated his interpretation in a whisper pitched to Frisk’s ears. “...’Good luck’? Is that what you just said?”

Frisk nodded, still smiling the odd smile.

“Sure thing, kiddo. Till Saturday, huh?”

Frisk nodded again, more vigorously, then darted to Toriel’s side. The queen waved her paw at the two brothers as she and her child headed for the door.

“Thank you again, my friends, for your hospitality! Sans, I look forward to our lesson. I am sure that you will…” She again giggled, but in a different way, one that Sans had become very familiar with indeed. “... _ dish- _ cover that you are a far better baker than you imagine.”

Papyrus faceplanted into a couch cushion to muffle his pained groan. Sans grinned his broadest of grins. “Hehehe. Nice one, Tori. See you on Saturday. Bye, Frisk,” he concluded with a wave.

When Toriel and Frisk exited, Sans slumped down into the nearest chair. “That was...unexpected,” he said to no one in particular.

“I  _ know, _ ” said Papyrus, his face still buried in the cushion. “I’m  _ used _ to your horrible wordplay, brother, but from her? Nyoo...it’s  _ still  _ an unwelcome surprise!”

Sans didn’t correct him. His thought were once again dwelling on Toriel’s laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> QED here stands for "quantum electrodynamics", and the book Sans is trying to read is a real one.


	2. The Lesson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I am so glad that I can help you like this, Sans,” she said. “Often I fear that I have neglected to show you the gratitude you deserve for what you’ve done for me.”
> 
> “Aw, hell, Tori, I didn't do anything,” replied Sans. “Just told you some jokes, that's all.”
> 
> “And you kept your promise.” She leaned a little closer, her brown eyes full of emotion. “You saved my child. How can I possibly repay you?”

This time Sans was prepared for the knock on the front door. By quarter to ten on Saturday morning he was reclining in artfully composed leisure on the living room couch, MAD magazine open in front of him. He’d tidied the kitchen (well, his brother had done that) and even laundered his hoodie (actually his brother had done that too). Papyrus was sitting at the dining table with an astronomical number of word and number puzzle books stacked in front of him; one, a book called “Easy Sudoku”, Papyrus had open, and he was scribbling numbers in with a pencil and erasing other numbers at approximately the same rate. “Oh no,” he was saying to himself, “that can't be right, I can't have two sevens in a row…”

“Need some help with that, bro?”

“No!” snapped Papyrus without looking up. “And even if I did need assistance I would far rather get it from Frisk. Your lethargic mind can't possibly be up to the challenge of such feats of logic as these!”

“Whatever you say, bro.”

“Maybe I should start over,” fretted Papyrus as he erased all his previous work. “Now this  _ has _ to be a four—”

When the soft rapping came Sans restrained a momentary urge to sprint for the door, and another urge equally momentary to run the other direction. “Mind gettin’ it, bro?” Sans inquired from behind his magazine. 

“I always do,” Papyrus replied with a trace of asperity. He dropped his pencil and strode to answer the knock.

“Hello again, Papyrus,” said Toriel in her rich contralto. Sans lowered his magazine, peering discreetly over it at the queen. Frisk was with her, grasping her left paw and looking around themselves with dark brown eyes bright and alert. Cradled in her right arm were a number of paper grocery sacks. All of Sans’s attention, however, was drawn to Toriel’s  _ accoutrement.  _ Until now Sans had never seen Toriel in anything other than her customary long-sleeved violet robe— _ she must have a dozen of them in a closet,  _ Sans had thought more than once—for a violet dress that left her arms bare and dipped modestly at the neckline, exposing the creamy white fur of her upper chest. A dark purple belt cinched the dress snugly about her broad waist and just brought out the curvature of her hips beneath.

_ Uh,  _ thought Sans. 

Toriel's gaze caught Sans’s before he had the wit to hide his eye-sockets behind MAD again. Her face lit up with a luminous smile. “Ah, Sans! I am pleased to see you again.”

Frisk waved happily and signed, “Hello again Sans!” Then it happened again: Frisk looked from Sans’s face up to Toriel's and then back to Sans, smiling that enigmatic smile.

_ What’s up with that kid?  _ Sans asked himself. Sans had little enough experience of humans and even less of human children but even he guessed that Frisk’s strange admixture of calm, mature perspicacity with their childlike playfulness and thirst for affection was many standard deviations away from the mean of twelve-year-old human behavior. But he’d never seen anything like this smile from them before.

“Hey there again, Frisk, Tori,” Sans said, tossing his magazine onto the coffee-table and standing up, brushing some imaginary specks from his hoodie. He nodded toward Toriel's load of groceries. “Come bearing gifts, I see?”

“Oh! You could say that,” Toriel replied, with a tentative giggle. “I brought along some of my ingredients from home, just to be on the safe side.”

“Aw, Tori, you don't need to waste your supplies on me. I got my own stuff to bake with.”

“My dear Sans, it's no waste. Consider them…school supplies, if you will.” Toriel turned to Frisk. “Frisk, may I ask you and Papyrus to take your puzzle-solving efforts to his room? Tutoring Sans may require some concentration and attention to detail on my part. I’m sure you understand, my child.”

Frisk smiled and nodded eagerly. Papyrus jumped from his chair, sweeping as many of the puzzle books up in his arms as he could, spilling many of them to the floor. Frisk assiduously gathered up the stray books into a neat stack. “Come, young human!” the skeleton announced. “We shall take our investigation of number puzzles to my place of refuge. And,” he added with a wink of an eye-socket as he left the living room with Frisk bringing up the rear, “I have some new action figures to show you!”

Just before Frisk disappeared from sight down the corridor he signed a message to Sans, ending with a swiftly flashed “ILU”.

_ “Good luck,” again,  _ Sans translated to himself.  _ With what? Pie crust?  _

“Shall we begin?” Toriel asked as she went to the kitchen, beckoning Sans to accompany her. “You’ll have to tell me what equipment you have…” As he followed he couldn't help noticing that the closer fit of Toriel’s dress revealed beneath the fabric the outline of her short tail, normally concealed beneath the folds of her customary robes. Nor had he ever before noticed the gentle sway of her hips as her feet softly padded over the floor… 

“Sans?” Toriel looked back over her shoulder. “Did you hear what I said?”

“Huh? Um, sorry, Tori…uh, you were asking about equipment? Just the usual hand utensils, mixing bowls, some spatulas, spoons, a whisk…I haven't got an electric mixer or anything like that. Is that gonna be a problem?”

“Not at all! Everything you need to do in baking, you can do by hand.” Once in the kitchen she deposited her grocery bags on the counter and began to unload their contents: flour, sugar, blocks of butter, a bottle of milk... “In fact I prefer to work by hand. There is something…” She paused to contemplate for a second. “...something uniquely  _ satisfying _ about just getting one’s paws directly into one’s work, putting muscle and sweat into it.” She giggled again. “Oh, is there room in your refrigerator for the milk and butter?”

“Yeah, plenty,” Sans replied. “I’ll take care of it.” Sans pushed some plastic containers of leftover ravioli and linguine aside to shelve the butter and milk while Toriel fussed about with her  _ mise en place,  _ arranging ingredients and looking for bowls and utensils.

“Where are the knives?” Toriel asked, peering into a drawer.

Sans stared. “ _ What _ did you just ask?”

“Do you have any table knives or dinner knives? You know, the ones with rounded ends.”

“Oh! Uh. I think there’s a couple in that drawer you’re looking at. Everything’s mixed up together, sorry.”

Toriel tut-tutted. “I should get you a drawer organizer as a gift.” She rummaged around and eventually fished out a mismatched pair of table knives. “There. I believe that’s all we will need. Now, if I remember correctly, in your message, you said that your crusts were coming out mealy?”

“Yeah,” Sans admitted. “Nothing like yours. Your pie crusts come out so flaky! I tried to follow the recipe you gave me, but the crusts I bake end up crumbling and falling apart when I cut a slice.”

Toriel stroked her muzzle. “There could be a couple of reasons. How are you cutting the butter into the flour?”

“Uh, well…” Sans rubbed the back of his skull. “I didn't actually get that direction too good. I tried looking it up and just got confused with all the different ways I found. So in the end I figured, if the point is just to get the butter mixed in with the flour, I waited for the butter to get soft and—”

Toriel bleated in dismay. “Oh, Sans! Not at all what you should have done!” Sans’s face fell. “Please, don’t blame yourself,” she hastened to add, softening her voice and tentatively laying a paw on the skeleton’s shoulder. Sans started at the gentle touch, but his smile returned. “It was my responsibility to provide you with clearer instructions, not merely a set of steps to follow by rote. Not memorization but understanding is the key to successful cooking and baking.”

_ How fascinating her eyes are!  _ Sans found himself thinking as he gazed up at the long, wise face of his teacher, and into the soft brown eyes with their horizontal pupils.

“I shall endeavor to correct my mistake now, with a proper—” She covered her mouth with her hand to stifle her laughter. “—tu- _ Toriel _ on pie crust.”

It didn’t matter that he’d heard some variation on this pun from her at least a dozen times in the past five years or more; he grinned and chuckled every time he heard it. “Hehe! Nice one, Tori.”

Toriel stood up straight, in her best schoolteacher’s posture. “The secret to a delicious, flaky pie crust,” she lectured, “is that the butter must remain as cold and solid as possible. You do not want to mix the butter smoothly in with the flour. Rather you want to cut the butter into small chunks. These chunks, when they are coated in flour and rolled out, are what become the ‘flakes’ when the crust is baked. Does that make sense?”

Sans rubbed a cheekbone. “I think so. So you have to make sure all these little pieces of butter don’t get stuck or melted together.”

“Right! That means working the butter as cold as possible, using ice-cold water to make the dough, and refrigerating the dough before rolling it out for the crust.”

“Huh, okay. I sure didn’t do any of those things did I?”

“But now you have  _ me _ to show you, in person.” Toriel laid a paw on her breast and smiled. “Shall we start the lesson?”

* * *

Sans plopped himself down on the living room couch, dusting a bit of stray flour from the sleeves of his hoodie. Toriel seated herself next to him, resting one arm on the back of the couch. “You’re coming along very well, Sans,” she said. “You’re picking up the techniques really quickly.”

Toriel had insisted on walking him through three batches of pie dough, each time using a different method for cutting the butter into the flour: slicing it into chunks with the pair of table knives (effective if a little unnerving), using a large fork (less effective and slow), and using his fingers (rather fun, but cleaning flour and butter out of the crevices between his bones had been a hassle.) All three batches were now chilling in the refrigerator, giving Sans and Toriel the excuse for a break on the couch. From down the hall came the occasional sounds of Papyrus’s declamations and Frisk’s laughter as they played together.

Toriel’s behavior during her lesson was starting to fluster Sans. Now this was far from the first time she’d visited his house in the months following their move to the Surface. Sans always welcomed her visits; she was affable and funny, as she had always been, but some reserve still lay between the two of them, as though they were still on opposite sides of a closed door. The degree of familiarity Toriel was showing today, though, was utterly new to him. She would stand close while working in the kitchen, leaning over his back to watch what he was he was doing, occasionally laying a friendly, guiding paw on an arm or his shoulder. 

And Toriel was close to him now, her arm resting just behind his head, her head leaned towards him, her face alert and attentive. Her exertions in the warm kitchen had elicited from her body a subtle odor of musk. Sans wondered why he'd never noticed it before.

“I am so glad that I can help you like this, Sans,” she said. “Often I fear that I have neglected to show you the gratitude you deserve for what you’ve done for me.”

“Aw, hell, Tori, I didn't do anything,” replied Sans. “Just told you some jokes, that's all.”

“And you kept your promise.” She leaned a little closer, her brown eyes full of emotion. “You saved my child. How can I possibly repay you?”

Sans shrugged. “You don't owe me anything. You laughed at my jokes. That's payment enough.”

“So modest and undemanding you are, Sans,” said Toriel. “Small wonder you are so well liked. Everyone sees you and your delightful smile, and they cannot help but smile in return. Sometimes, I admit, I have wondered…” Again the nervous giggle. “I’ve wondered why you and Papyrus live alone, why there is no one else in your life.”

Sans felt the intensity of Toriel's gaze. “I dunno. There's just never been anyone than Papyrus and me, as far back as I can remember.”

“No mother, no father?”

_ —never forget— _

Sans shook his head uncertainly. “Can’t bring anyone to mind, sorry.” He essayed a laugh. “I guess I must have had a  _ really  _ boring childhood.”

“You must have been lonely,” she murmured. 

“Lonely, me? Nah, I've always had my brother at my side.”

“No one else?” The atmosphere of subdued musk about her grew heavier. 

“Well, uh…Grillby’s a pal I guess, and the regulars there all know me, if I feel like I need company…”

“I confess that I meant something a little more…personal with that question.”

“What do you mean, Tori?” Sans shifted in his seat. 

“Has there never been anyone close to you? For… companionship?” Toriel’s deep voice sank lower, almost to a whisper, only for Sans to hear.

_ Uh.  _

Sans forced his best, disarming chuckle. “I dunno about  _ that,  _ Tori, but I can always look to you for com- _ pun _ -ionship.”

Toriel smiled a little but did not laugh. “I was lonely in the Ruins, Sans, after the seventh human left me… the last one before Frisk. As the years passed I felt my hold on life and reason slipping away from me. When I was awake my ears would strain to hear voices that were not there. When I was asleep I heard the voices in my dreams. Mocking me, accusing me...truly I believe that, had you not come to me, I would have gone mad.” She lowered her head for a moment but then raised it again, her brown eyes aglow, looking straight into Sans’s face. “But you  _ did _ come, with your jokes and your laughter and your stories of Snowdin and your beloved brother. And you kept coming back, all the way to the edge of your known world, day after day, to save me from my loneliness. Were you really only bored, as you would always say? Even with Papyrus to help you...were you not also lonely?”

The gentle, resonant voice filled Sans’s head; the gentle, insistent eyes looked through him. He could not lie. “Maybe I was,” he admitted.

“Sans,” she said. Her paw slipped down from the back to the couch to rest on his shoulder. Her muzzle came within inches of his face. “I am here now. Nothing separates us any longer. If you should so desire it...you need never be lonely again.”

Sans froze. He wanted to run far away, he wanted to hurl himself into the queen’s embrace, he wanted to improvise some joke or witticism that would somehow defuse the unbearable tension and return Toriel to what she had been, a kindly safe old goatmom in a purple robe who baked pies and laughed at puns. But that was impossible now.

A louder than usual shriek from Papyrus caught Toriel’s attention. She jerked her head in its direction and Sans leaped at the interruption. “I’d, uh, I’d better go check on him, Tori,” he said, hastily pushing himself off the couch.

“But, Sans—” said Toriel, stretching out a paw toward the already retreating skeleton.

“This won’t take a minute, Tori, I’m sure of it,” said Sans as he walked out of the living room. “We’ll finish our conversation, I promise.”

“I—all right, Sans.” Toriel’s shoulders drooped. “If you say so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a very difficult passage to write. Not so fluffy now...I think I might be incapable of writing fluff. *wry smile*


	3. A Chance to Rebuild

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"She talks about you all the time at home. She thinks you're sweet and cute.”_
> 
> “Oh, jeez, kiddo…” Sans sagged into the nearest seat.
> 
> Papyrus clapped his hands together and grinned for joy. “WOWIE! The queen is in love with my own brother! Why, Sans, that almost makes you a king, doesn't it?” Papyrus scratched his mandible. “Surely this must make me a prince of something…”
> 
> “Bro this is not helping!”

Sans barged through the door of his brother’s room without announcing himself, shut it behind him, and leaned against it, breathing hard.

“Sans!” Papyrus admonished. “Usually you are mindful enough to knock first! What Frisk and I are constructing requires  _ great _ concentration.”

Papyrus and Frisk were in the middle of the room. All around them were scattered puzzle books of every description; scattered all about them were puzzle books of every description: books of word puzzles, math puzzles, logic puzzles, mazes, even the occasional “Where’s Waldo”. Still more of the books were stacked up into a tower, built up from volumes stacked atop each other and leaning against each other, swaying ominously as the diminutive Frisk stood on a chair to position a thick compilation of crosswords at the top of the pile. They gently laid the book down, the tower swayed, everyone held their breaths—and then the tower came to rest again and Papyrus sent up another triumphant shout.

“HURRAY! Well done, young human! Now it is my turn again. Soon our citadel of books will reach the ceiling!”

“What are you two doing?” Sans asked. “Weren’t you working on number puzzles?”

“Ah!” Papyrus put his hands together and grinned. “We  _ did _ work on sudoku and kakuro for a short while, but then Frisk pointed out to me that they’d had enough arithmetic to do at school, so they suggested a different challenge.” Frisk grinned with pride from their lofty perch, but then their face grew serious. They stepped down from the chair and began to sign a question to Sans, but after a few seconds they shook their head and reached for their pocket-notebook to scribble it down. 

_ “What happened between you and mom? You look unhappy. Did something go wrong?” _

“Uh. Um…No?”

Papyrus looked narrowly at his brother. “You  _ are _ behaving rather oddly, Sans,” he said. “Normally the queen’s visits leave you in a far more chipper mood than this. You’re not even smiling!”

“Huh? Of course I'm smiling!” Sans put on a manic grin. “Everything's fine and soon there will be pie! Heh.”

Frisk looked at him askance and scribbled a fresh question.  _ “Please, Sans. Tell me you didn't get into a fight with mom. Is she all right?” _

“She’s fine, kiddo! We didn't argue, I swear, but…” Sans knew that there was no hiding the blue tinge of embarrassment on his cheekbones. “Frisk, your mom got all…flirty with me.”

Frisk giggled and wrote their reply. _ “Of course she did! She's crazy about you.” _

Sans gaped. “What?! Since when?”

Scribble.  _ “Ever since she met you! She talks about you all the time at home. She thinks you're sweet and cute.” _

“Oh, jeez, kiddo…” Sans sagged into the nearest seat.

Papyrus clapped his hands together and grinned for joy. “WOWIE! The queen is in love with my own brother! Why, Sans, that almost makes you a king, doesn't it?” Papyrus scratched his mandible. “Surely this must make me a prince of something…”

“Bro this is not helping!” Sans yelped. He held his skull in his hands. “Why didn't she say anything before, if she's been thinking this for months?”

Frisk looked a little glum and wrote his answer.  _ “Mom was afraid.” _

“Afraid? Tori?” Sans shook his head. “I can’t believe that Tori’s afraid of anything.”

Scribble.  _ “I used to ask mom why she didn’t just tell you how much she liked you. She wouldn’t ever really say. But she would look sad and tell me, ‘I wish it were that simple, child.’” _

“It  _ isn’t _ that simple, kid. I mean...she’s the queen...I’m just some bum with a hot dog stand…oh, god.” Sans groaned. “So what the heck changed her mind? I dunno if you can tell, Frisk, but your mom is coming on  _ real _ strong for someone who’s been telling you ‘it's complicated’ for months.”

Frisk made an embarrassed noise and took a few moments before composing their reply. _ “Every few weeks mom seems to get a lot more interested in you than usual. She's been trying to hide it.” _

“Every few weeks—oh. Ohhhhh.”

Papyrus looked back and forth between the two, puzzled. “What happens every few weeks? Please explain, Sans.”

“Therian biology happens,” Sans said with as much aplomb as he could muster. “Our queen is…” He flushed bright blue. “... _ in heat _ .”

“Oh!” Papyrus looked satisfied but only for a second, then his puzzlement returned. “Would a cold drink help her? We have ice.”

“No, Papyrus—it's not that sort of—” Sans began, but he cut himself short with a gasp at the sound of knocking on Papyrus's bedroom door.

“Sans? Is everything quite all right in there?” came Toriel's voice. “You have been gone for several minutes. Are Papyrus and my child in any difficulties?”

“No! Everything’s fine, Tori!” Sans replied. “We’re just, uh, helping my little brother to organize his books! I’ll be back with you real quick, I promise!”

“Good. My lesson isn’t over yet.” Toriel purred. “I’ll be waiting for you on the couch.”

Sans held his breath until he could no longer hear Toriel’s padding footsteps and then groaned again. “Will you listen to  _ that… _ what am I gonna do?”

Frisk’s gloominess deepened.  _ “This is my fault,” _ they wrote.  _ “I talked mom into this. I told her it was wrong to hide her feelings from you. Shouldn’t we always tell the truth to each other?” _

Sans closed his eye-sockets for a moment.  _ There’s some truth you’re better off not telling, kiddo...do you really want to know what sort of nightmares I have about you still? _ Aloud he said, “That’s the theory anyway, kid.”

Scribble.  _ “Mom’s lonely, Sans. I just wanted to help. And I thought you loved mom too. Was I wrong?” _

“Of course I love your mom! She’s gorgeous!” Sans burst out, but then the penny dropped. “Wait a sec, kiddo! Where did  _ you _ find that out?”

Papyrus’s cheekbones turned pink. “Ah. Sans...I  _ might _ have said something to Frisk about it.”

“Papyrus!” Sans rounded on his brother. “I never told you I was sweet on Tori!”

“You didn’t have to!” Papyrus retorted. “You talk about Toriel almost as much as I used to gush about Mettaton, and you sound just the same when you do it, too.”

Sans opened his mouth for an indignant rejoinder but stopped himself. He thought of all the times he’d spent with Toriel over the months, reveling in the warmth of her company as one would bask in the glow of a cozy fireplace. And then afterwards he’d have to tell Papyrus all about it, fondly recalling every look and every laugh. “Oh. Heh. I, uh, I guess I might have been a bit obvious.”

“Then what are you waiting for, brother!” Papyrus came up to Sans, laid a friendly hand on his shoulder, and looked at him kindly. “Just tell her.”

Sans jammed his hands into his pockets and stared at the ground. “Just like that, huh? And how well did ‘just telling’ work out for you and your hot pink robot pal?”

Papyrus smiled. “Very well, actually. We talk all the time. He’s…” He blushed again. “He’s talking about taking me out to dinner and a movie in Highlands. I’ve never had a sit-down dinner at a human restaurant before!”

Sans looked sharply up into his brother’s face. “You’ve never told me you were lining up another date.”

Papyrus’s smile faded. “I’ve noticed that when I talk about Mettaton these days you get to looking...uncomfortable. I know you don’t like or trust my boyfriend very much, Sans, so if reminding you of Mettaton makes you feel bad I won’t bring him up.”

Sans’s heart sank. “I didn’t know I came across that way.”

“Why do you dislike Mettaton, Sans?”

Sans couldn’t say anything at first. The truth was that he hadn’t really had any problem with Papyrus’s crush on Mettaton, so long as he could write it off as mere puppy-love infatuation with an unattainable celebrity. He scarcely expected that Papyrus would ever act upon it. Still less did he expect that ironclad prima donna to  _ respond _ to Papyrus’s courtship _. _ And to learn that they actually considered themselves a couple now…

He hated to admit it, but he was jealous. 

Sans looked into Papyrus’s face. “I owe you an apology, bro. Maybe I was wrong about your boyfriend. Honestly...I’m proud of you, taking a chance with Mettaton like that. But I envy you, because I haven’t been able to take a chance like that myself.”

“But why, Sans? What’s stopping you?”

Sans glanced over at Frisk, then looked back down at the floor. “I dunno how to explain…it’s too ridiculous…” His words failed him.

_ —how can I possibly explain to you, little brother, that it’s because I wake up every day expecting to open my eyes and find us both back in Snowdin? Because I’m half convinced that the moment I get close to Tori she’ll vanish from my side and turn back into an unseen voice behind a door? _

A gentle tap on his shoulder broke into his thoughts. Frisk was at his side, their dark brown eyes gazing keenly into Sans’s face. They handed the skeleton a piece of paper torn from their notebook.

_ “I want you to be happy, Sans,” _ it read.

Underneath was written the word  _ “RESET” _ , run through with two heavy lines.

Sans nodded, crumpling the paper and lobbing it into the trash. “Thanks, kiddo,” he said. He opened his arms for a hug and Frisk gratefully accepted, embracing the skeleton close.

Then Sans heard a strange voice whisper in his ear. It was a halting, hesitant voice, as if rusty from long disuse: Frisk's voice. “Mom wants you happy too, Sans,” they said. “We both love you.”

“Gee, kiddo…way to make a guy turn blue in the face, ” Sans said, blushing. “All right, you win. Both of you,” he added, looking over Frisk's shoulder at Papyrus. “I’ll go back out there and, uh, talk to Tori.”

Frisk released Sans from his hug, gave him a huge smile and signed,  _ “Thank you, Sans. Be honest with mom.” _

“I promise I will. But please, kiddo, don’t expect any miracles. Yeah, I like your mom and for some reason she likes me, but don’t start writing out any engagement announcements yet.”

Frisk nodded but still looked as though they had stars in their eyes. Papyrus’s face lit up and he whooped. “Wow! My big brother is going to be a  _ consort! _ ” Gesticulating in his excitement he accidentally sent a bony elbow into the side of the great tower of puzzle books; with a cascade of slithering and thudding volumes the structure collapsed into a heap on the floor. Frisk slapped their hand to their forehead.

“Oh no!” cried Papyrus, surveying the wreckage he caused. “Uh...worry not, young Frisk, we can rebuild!”

“You have fun with that, you two,” said Sans, hopping from his seat. “I guess I’ve kept Tori waiting too long as it is.”

_ “Good luck!” _ Frisk signed, while Papyrus dithered over his fallen books. Sans left them to their play and headed back toward the living room, halfway expecting to see the queen striking a come-hither pose on his couch with a rose in her teeth.

He was slightly surprised instead to see Toriel sitting bolt upright on the couch, her paws folded in her lap, a serious expression on her face. She looked up when she heard Sans enter.

“Sans,” she said quietly. “I...may owe you an apology.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I credit AO3 author Mr_Welsh for the idea that Toriel just might possibly have an oestrus cycle. I was a bit reluctant to go there myself but, eh, what's done cannot be undone...


	4. Concord

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "...even with my new duties and my child to keep me preoccupied, I found myself growing increasingly…” She looked at Sans in silent appeal. “...lonely.”
> 
> “Oh.” Sans giggled nervously. “That kind of lonely.”
> 
> Toriel averted her eyes, suddenly diffident again. “I had so forgotten what it was like, to have that...close companionship and intimacy in my life. Once I had told myself that I no longer deserved them ever again, that loneliness for the rest of my days was the fitting punishment for my cowardice. But then I would see you again…” She gazes at him. “...and for a while I would forget that I did not deserve happiness, and remember again what it was like to be happy.”

“What?” Sans looked at Toriel with a frozen smile. “What have you got to be sorry about, Tori?” He seated himself on the couch about a foot from Toriel and was disheartened to see that, as she sat down, the queen leaned ever so slightly away from him. Her gaze flicked nervously back and forth between Sans’s eyes and her paws folded on her lap.

“I...ah. This is difficult for me. Forgive me.” She drew a deep breath and started over. “Because of physiological compulsions that are...unavoidable for me, I fear that I heedlessly have been taking, ah, certain inadvertent liberties with you, conducting myself in an unseemly manner that I fear has given you offense—”

“Tori.” Sans held up a hand to stop her. “Tori, this isn’t a diplomatic negotiation. It’s not a human city councillor or state senator you’re jawing with here. It’s  _ me, _ Sans, your friend. You can put away the four-syllable words and just  _ talk. _ What makes you think you’ve offended me?”

Toriel flashed Sans a look of dejection in her soft brown eyes then dropped her gaze again. “You did not answer my texts,” she said in a voice Sans had never heard from her before, a quiet, almost girlish voice like that of a bashful child.

“I didn’t get any texts!” Sans’s smile faded as he patted the pockets of his hoodie and his shorts, finally locating his phone. “Oh,” he said, pushing its buttons fruitlessly. “Looks, uh, looks like I should’ve plugged it in when I got here this morning.”

At this news Toriel lifted her head, eyes lit up. “You mean...you were not ignoring me?”

“Jeez, Tori, I wouldn’t ever ignore anything you said. What’s gotten into you? Ten minutes ago you were in a lot...well, better mood than this.”

The queen’s soft, shining eyes dimmed again. “I was,” she said. “But as I waited here and you still did not come back even after I told you I was awaiting you, I began to wonder if I had not made a dreadful mistake. Therefore I…” Her words faltered and she held out her phone for Sans to see. It was open to a chat window entitled “Sans” and it held four short messages.

**12:37** _[ Sans, I have frightened you off, have I not ]_

**12:39** _[ Please come back Sans ]_

**12:40** _[ I ]_

**12:40** _[ I love you ]_

Sans’s eye-sockets goggled wide and the light within them glowed brightly. “Tori, I don’t know what to—”

But Toriel was talking breathlessly now, her voice unnaturally high and shaky, threatening at any moment to dissolve into frantic laughter. Her paws clutched at her violet dress, twisting the fabric into knots. “I do not know what came over me, sending that! Behaving in this manner, as though I were a girl of twenty years again with nothing more important to do than moon over young Prince Asgore as we walked together in his father’s garden. But I am an old woman now, an old woman with heavy responsibilities, to whom all monsterkind is looking for guidance during this great transition, I ought never—”

“Tori. Tori.” Sans caught up her paws in his hands, bony fingers lightly stroking them. “C’mon, Tori, calm down.  _ Paws  _ and take a breather, okay?”

Toriel blinked for a few moments and then laughed, a long, genuine, relieved laugh. “Oh dear, Sans…” she said at last, recovering her breath but still giggling. “I have been blithering, haven’t I?”

“A little. But it’s okay. Tori, I know your emotions are all riled up right now and your mind’s going eight different directions at once. But it’s going to be all right.” His own thoughts were far less calm than his manner but still, as he caressed Toriel’s paws, they and she relaxed. “That’s better.”

Toriel steadied herself with calm, even breaths. Her paws relaxed and she permitted Sans to interlace the digits of his hands with hers. “Thank you, Sans. You always know just what to say to put me at my ease and lighten my heart. I suppose that is one reason I began to...well…” She bowed her head but her eyes still looked up shyly at Sans’s face. “I have not felt this giddy in hundreds of years,” she confessed. 

Sans flushed a pale blue. “I...uh...I’m flattered, Tori. But, gee, going from a seven-foot-tall warrior king to, well,  _ me?  _ It’s a bit of a stretch.”

“I do not want a warrior in my life!” Toriel exclaimed. “Heavens...after all that has happened, Sans, do you think I want anyone close to me who reminds me of war and violence? No. I want kindness and compassion and gentle humor. I want  _ your _ admirable qualities, Sans _. _ ”

“But I’m not an aristocrat or anything. I’m not classy like you. I sleep half the day. I leave dirty socks lying around the house for my brother to clean up. I—”

“Sans. Sans.” She glared at him with mild reproach. “Do you really think that I give the least shred of consideration to any of this trivia? I was no ‘aristocrat’ either, when I married the prince. I was a callow girl with a little schooling who fell in love with a manly chest and a strong pair of arms.”

“Jeez, Tori...it’s really hard to think of you as ‘callow’. You’re, well, smart and imposing and amazing. Everyone thinks so.”

Toriel chuckled. “I suppose I had to grow into the job of queen, when the old king ‘fell down’ and Asgore took his place.  _ One  _ of us had to be a leader and Fluffybuns, poor dear Fluffybuns...I really did love him, you know, Sans. He had his own admirable qualities, truly he did, but making difficult decisions of state was not one of them.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s not one of mine either, Tori.”

“Sans! I’m not asking you to be my  _ king _ , I’m asking you to be my  _ consort. _ That is a very different thing.” She sighed. “Do you know...after we were freed and I learned that Asgore wanted only to abdicate and retire forever from public view, I was glad. Then I learned it was hoped I would resume leadership of the monsters as queen again...at first, I wished not to do it. I had wanted only to retire myself, devote myself to raising my dear child, perhaps teach. But everyone was looking to me, and to Frisk. The two of us together...we were the symbols of monsterkind’s hopes and dreams.”

Sans nodded. “Yeah, you were. Even I felt it, and I didn’t even know you—well, I didn’t know that you used to be King Asgore’s queen. But then when we got to the surface and Asgore announced he was quitting and wanted to be left alone, there you were, saying all the right words and looking so regal and  _ impressive _ , hand in hand with the kid who saved all of us...if you weren’t gonna be the best leader we could possibly hope for, who was?” 

Toriel nodded a little sadly. “I knew it was necessary. Indeed...I confess to learning that I enjoyed assuming the queenly role again after so long away from it. But after the tension of those first weeks on the Surface had eased and I settled into my new routine, even with my new duties and my child to keep me preoccupied, I found myself growing increasingly…” She looked at Sans in silent appeal. “...lonely.”

“Oh.” Sans giggled nervously. “ _ That _ kind of lonely.”

Toriel averted her eyes, suddenly diffident again. “I had so forgotten what it was like, to have that...close companionship and intimacy in my life. Once I had told myself that I no longer deserved them ever again, that loneliness for the rest of my days was the fitting punishment for my cowardice. But then I would see you again…” She gazes at him. “...and for a while I would forget that I did not deserve happiness, and remember again what it was like to be happy.”

“Aw, Tori…” Sans flushed deeper blue. “Gosh. I dunno what to say. I’m...honored. I’m glad my hanging out with you made such a big difference in your life. But you really want to settle for a four-foot-tall skeleton with a goofy face who tells bad jokes? I mean, if you’re into manly chests and strong arms, you might wanna look somewhere else.”

Toriel smiled. “I am no longer twenty, Sans. I have learned to appreciate different tastes in the centuries since then. Besides…” She began gently stroking the bones of one of Sans’s hands, running her paw-pads lightly over their complicated surfaces. Sans flushed even deeper blue. “I wonder if you fully appreciate what unique charms you have, Sans. You are not without a certain…” She leaned a little closer and Sans could almost feel the intensity of her gaze. “...unconventional magnetism.” But then she straightened up again and disengaged one of her paws from Sans’s grasp so she could rub her long face with it. “Dear me! Here I go again, carrying on like a lovesick adolescent. I suppose you must find all of this attention unwarranted and perhaps unwelcome—”

“I love you too, Tori.”

Sans’s statement hung in the air between them, radiating silence and stillness that enveloped them both. Toriel froze in the middle of stroking her muzzle and for several long moments she sat motionless with her paw held to her face. Sans heard no sounds from Papyrus’s room, no sounds from outside, not even the gentle rise and fall of Toriel’s breathing. Then she dropped her paw to her lap, reaching once again for Sans’s hand, and the spell was broken.

“You...you do?” Toriel’s fascinating eyes gleamed brightly and her lips parted in a smile that just showed her fangs.

“Um...yeah. Yeah, I do.” The ardor in her gaze was temporarily too much for Sans to handle and he dipped his head, studying the shape of Toriel’s paws and feeling her slender digits against his bones. “Guess I have for a while, but, well, it sort of needed Frisk and Papyrus to make it obvious to me. It’s, uh, kinda new to me, actually…” He wondered exactly what shade of blue his cheekbones had attained by now.

“Oh, Sans!” Without thinking Toriel threw herself forward, flinging her arms around the small body of the skeleton in a tight hug. Sans stiffened at first, then coaxed himself into returning the hug. But he only got to enjoy the feeling of her soft-furred and aromatic body pressing against his for a second, for she released him from the embrace and stared at him, her brown eyes filled with anxiety.

“Sans, I felt you tense up. Did I do something wrong?”

“No! It’s not you, Tori. It’s just...whenever someone hugs me, it always makes me think just for a moment there’s something I should remember.”

_ —blinding light, a ruined face, the feeling of his arms clutching a body one moment and air the next— _

Sans shuddered and Toriel enclosed one of his hands in both her paws. The warmth and gentle pressure soothed him, the image faded as quickly as it had come, and he essayed a smile.

“Nothing to worry about, Tori. Just a memory. Maybe something I dreamed even.”

“Are you sure?” Her eyes remained worried. “That did not look like nothing.”

Sans gave vent to an exaggerated sigh. “Y’know, Tori, it’s really hard to say ‘no’ when you’re looking at me that way.”

A gleam of something other than concern flashed into Toriel’s eyes and she twitched an eye in a half-wink. “Indeed? I shall have to keep that in mind.” The moment passed and she was solemn again.

“It’s just...you recall, Tori, how you asked me if I had a mom or a dad? And I told you I don’t remember anyone? Thing is, I feel like maybe I did have a dad. Or someone, anyway.”

“Do you mean...do you think he is dead now?”

“No...it’s weirder than that.” Sans drew an uncertain breath. “I get...flashes. Like dreams that I forget even as I’m trying to remember them. But I feel like there used to be someone else other than just Papyrus and me. But it all melts away when I try to piece it together.” He closed his eyes. “D’ya know, I don’t remember how I wound up living in Snowdin? Papyrus doesn’t remember. Nobody I met there remembered. Early on I tried to find out more and I wandered near and far, trying to find some clue, maybe someone who could tell me something, but nobody could. Everyone I asked just looked puzzled. ‘Haven’t you always lived here?’ they’d say.” Sans reopened his eyes and gazed into Toriel’s. “But I guess all that wandering around wasn’t a total waste. I found you, didn’t I?”

Toriel’s face glowed with joy. “Yes. But…” Then the joy faded. “But what does this have to do with hugs?”

“Well,” said Sans, looking away, “there’s one dream or vision or whatever I get where my dad, or whoever it is...I think they’re in a lab and there’s some accident going on and I’m trying to save them. I’m trying to hold onto them, pull them away, but then...there’s no lab, there’s no accident, there’s nobody in my arms. It’s like nothing was ever wrong.” He forced a chuckle. “Maybe nothing ever was.”

“Sans,” asked Toriel, “I feel that I should hug you again. May I?”

“Sure, Tori.”

Tentatively she approached Sans, sliding her arms gradually around him, pulling him slowly into a tight embrace, resting her long muzzle on top of his skull. Sans tried to prevent his momentary flinch; he failed, but in the next moment he wrapped his arms as far as he could around Toriel’s Junoesque waist and settled himself against her chest, one cheekbone resting against the gentle contour of her breast.

“Is that what you have feared, Sans?” Toriel whispered. “Is that why you never told me how you felt? Because you thought that the moment I drew close, I would disappear?”

Sans wanted to open his mouth and say,  _ That isn’t the half of it, Tori! _ He wished he could tell her all the things his fleeting visions had shown him, all the moments illuminated as if by flashes of lightning in which she was dead, in which his brother was dead, in which he confronted a demonic apparition, clad in a blue and purple striped shirt covered with dust, advancing on him with a cruel smile and a knife at the ready—an apparition that was a mere child,  _ her _ child.

But Sans felt her reassuring weight against his small frame, felt her paws stroking up and down the back of his hoodie, heard her murmuring his name, breathed in the earthy smell of her body pressed so close to his, and he could not bring himself to spoil the moment. Sans pushed his nightmares back into the recesses of his mind, closed his eyes and gave in to the sensations of Toriel’s body enveloping his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, after much longer a time away from writing than I planned, a new chapter. I apologise for keeping all of you waiting!
> 
> I originally intended this chapter to continue for a perhaps another page but I liked the feeling of that last paragraph too much to want to chase it with another, not until the next chapter.
> 
> This story, by the way, partly answers a question that a reader had put to me about another one of my unfinished stories: whatever became of Asgore? In my headcanon he's a recluse now, having given up his position and fled into private life. That's not going to last forever but...I've got an Asgore-centered story planned.


	5. Mothers and Fathers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “All right, Frisk. I got a couple things I wanna chat with you about. C’mere, sit.” Sans patted the couch and Frisk obligingly threw themselves down next to the skeleton, bouncing up and down a little on the springy cushion and kicking their heels against the front of the couch. Sans watched them for a few moments.
> 
> “You look pleased as punch, kiddo,” Sans said at length. “So, did you get what you wanted?”
> 
> Frisk nodded enthusiastically, treating Sans to a broad smile.
> 
> Sans chuckled. “Always gotta play the matchmaker, don’t you, Frisk?"

“WOWIE!”

The all-too-familiar cry woke the comfortably ensconced Sans to sudden awareness of his situation, pillowed against the queen’s stomach with his hands running up and down her back and his head nestled between her breasts. Hastily he pulled himself away as far as Toriel’s encircling arms would allow. Toriel let out a startled bleat and jerked her head toward the source of the exclamation: at the edge of the living room Papyrus stood, eyes bugged out and gleaming as though he’d just won a Michelin star for his cooking, grinning manically and bearing aloft on his shoulders again the smiling figure of the diminutive ambassador.

“Jeez, bro!” exclaimed Sans. “Couldn’t you have given me a warning or something? This is…” He looked up at Toriel’s face, which was now turned back toward Sans and regarding him with a dewy-eyed expression. “...sort of bad timing...”

But Papyrus was still transported with delight. “My big brother’s in  _ love! _ Oh! The great Papyrus has a  _ magnificent  _ idea! We should double date! I’ll tell Mettaton when to make reservations for four instead of two and—” Frisk began laughing aloud.

“NO, Papyrus,” Sans burst out. Papyrus cut himself short in mid-sentence, his mouth open still in a look of comical surprise.

“I think what dear Sans is trying to say,” Toriel interjected in her gentlest, most conciliatory tone, “is that he prefers to spare me the inevitable stress and undue attention that would come with a date in a public place, especially a date also involving your glamorous and eye-catching partner, and wishes the time we spend together to be more private and serene. Is that not so, Sans?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Sans rushed to reply, clutching gratefully at the straw. “I mean, sometimes you just want to forget you’re royalty, huh? No fancy clothes, no being waited on, just, uh, like, quiet walks in the woods or something, holding hands…”

“My, Sans, you really  _ are _ a romantic at heart,” cooed Toriel, leaning down to nuzzle Sans’s cheekbone with her soft nose. Sans blushed indigo.

Frisk tapped Papyrus’s shoulder and with a commanding sound and a downward jab of their finger asked the skeleton for aid in dismounting.

“Yes, Ambassador, as you wish!” Papyrus dipped one knee to the floor and Frisk stepped off. The child then ran to Toriel, hugged her tightly, and whispered something in her ear that Sans could just catch: “Mom, I’m so happy for you.”

“I’m overjoyed as well, my child,” said Toriel, returning Frisk’s embrace. “Thank you for encouraging me to be truthful.”

“Weren’t you making pie?” came Frisk’s next whisper.

“Oh, dear, the pie!” Toriel released her child and swung round to look toward the kitchen. “We have some pie crust dough in the refrigerator but we haven’t even started making any pies yet.” She started to scramble to her feet.

_ “Wait,” _ Frisk signed, and Toriel sank back onto the couch.  _ “Have you kissed yet?” _

“What?” Sans stared at them. “Kiddo, it’s kinda hard to kiss when you don’t have lips.”

_ “Mom can kiss you,” _ Frisk signed. Papyrus gasped with excitement.

Toriel’s eyes lit up, gleaming with ardor. “My child is right. We should celebrate this moment in the most romantic possible way and what could be more romantic than our first kiss?” She brought her face to within inches of Sans; he could feel the warmth of her exhaled breath over his cheekbones.

“Gosh, Tori,” murmured Sans, “you really wanna do this in front of your kid?”

“Sans,” replied Toriel  _ sotto voce _ , “my child has been in the same room as Alphys and Undyne kissing. After witnessing that I doubt whether they have much innocence left to protect.”

“Well, okay,” Sans replied, with a not unpleasant shudder of anticipation. “If you think you can do anything enjoyable to my bony face with your much nicer one, Tori, I’m game to try.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Toriel purred before closing the gap between them and planting her soft lips on Sans’s maxilla. Soft but insistent was the pressure of those warm lips on his bone, and Sans felt heat rising in his chest, along with it an urge to vocalize his pleasure that he subdued only after a struggle. Just before Toriel pulled away she flicked the tip of her tongue between her lips, brushing against the surface of his maxilla, and Sans quivered. “Was that enjoyable, Sans?” she asked, her voice low and sultry.

“...oh, gosh...yes,” Sans managed to say.

“Wow!” exclaimed Papyrus. “That was  _ almost  _ as passionate as when Mettaton first kissed me…”

Frisk clapped their hands and beamed. _ “Maximum date power!” _ they signed.  _ “Now pie.” _

“Yes, yes, pie,” reiterated Toriel, reluctantly withdrawing her arms from round Sans and levering herself off the couch. “We should start working on the fillings. Shall we say that recess is now over and it is time to resume lessons?”

“Uh, almost, Tori. If you don’t mind getting the kitchen warmed up for me while I spend a few minutes talking the ambassador here. Can I borrow your child for a quick chat? In confidence?”

“Well...all right, Sans. I shall start preparatory work while you speak with Frisk. But I do ask that you not keep me waiting long.” Toriel leaned over the back of the couch and nosed the top of Sans’s skull. “After all, we have yet to discuss what sort of desserts you wish me to teach you how to make. Cream pies, perhaps?”

“Heh. Heh.” Sans resisted the urge to squirm. “Papyrus, bro, I take it you’re done with puzzle books for now? Mind doing a little shopping for me?”

“I would be glad to, Sans! What do you need?”

“Pick up a carton or two of vanilla Nice Cream to go with the pie. Also some whipping cream just in case we run out.”

“With pleasure, Sans!” Papyrus bowed with hyperbolic courtesy to Toriel and Frisk. “I shall return as swiftly as I can, Qu—Toriel, young human.” He strutted to the front door with the air of one intent on an urgent mission and made his exit.

Toriel watched Papyrus go then headed for the kitchen. “Promise me you’ll join me soon, Sans! I will occupy myself in the meantime with some washing-up.” She gave Sans a demure wave with the fingers of one paw before disappearing into the kitchen, and soon the sounds of clattering dishes and running water emerged, mixed with the low, melodious sound of Toriel humming a tune.

“All right, Frisk. I got a couple things I wanna chat with you about. C’mere, sit.” Sans patted the couch and Frisk obligingly threw themselves down next to the skeleton, bouncing up and down a little on the springy cushion and kicking their heels against the front of the couch. Sans watched them for a few moments.

“You look pleased as punch, kiddo,” Sans said at length. “So, did you get what you wanted?”

Frisk nodded enthusiastically, treating Sans to a broad smile.

Sans chuckled. “Always gotta play the matchmaker, don’t you, Frisk? Like with Alphys and Undyne, and those two dudes from the Guard who are always eating Nice Cream together now. And I’ll bet you had something to do with my brother and Mettaton hooking up too, huh?”

The young human shook their head, vocalizing an emphatic sound of denial, and fumbled in their pockets for their notebook and pen. _ “That wasn’t me,” _ they scribbled out.  _ “That was all Undyne and Alphys.” _

“Still, you’re the one that helped get them together, so I’m gonna credit you with setting up Papyrus too.” Sans grinned, but then his voice took on a serious tone. “You’ve been lucky, kid, and this time you were lucky again, but you’re not always gonna be able to count on that. You’re way smarter and got better judgment than most grownups but you  _ are _ still just a kid. You can’t always assume two people belong together just because they like each other.”

Frisk stopped bouncing and kicking, and looked a little glum.  _ “Are you mad at me?” _ they signed.

“Me? No! In fact I’m kinda grateful you were able to draw your mom out. All I’m saying is, sometimes these things are messier than they first appear. I’m just telling you to be more cautious in future before pushing anyone into, well, trying to date someone else up. Promise?”

_ “I promise,” _ Frisk signed, ending the gesture with a hand on their heart and a solemn bow of their head.

“So, I gotta ask,” Sans said, “why do you do it, kid? Why are you so keen on getting folks hooked up?”

Frisk shrugged and looked pensive for a moment, then wrote out their answer.  _ “I just want to see people happy. So when I see that two people really like each other but are too shy to say so, I want to help them do that.” _

“Just out of the kindness of your heart? Well, kid, I gotta say that if there’s anyone I know who’d want nothing more than to see everyone happy, just because, it’s you, Frisk.” Sans lightly touched Frisk's knee and the child lowered their eyes, smiling modestly.

“But I don’t think that’s the whole story. I don’t think you’d be doing this unless you were getting something out of it.”

Frisk’s expression darkened and they began scribbling hastily.  _ “Sans, believe me, I’m not—” _

“Hey, kid, don’t get the wrong idea,” Sans quickly interjected. “I’m not accusing you of running some sort of game. I think it’s more like...you’re looking for something you didn’t get when you were younger.”

Frisk frowned and tapped their pen against their pad for a second or two before replying. _ “Like what, Sans?” _ was all they wrote.

“I dunno, you’ve never liked to talk much about your past so I can only guess. And what I’m guessing is...you didn’t get to see a lot of happiness and togetherness back then.”

Frisk closed their eyes for several seconds, and for a moment Sans thought they were on the edge of weeping.  _ “No,”  _ Frisk eventually wrote. _ “My—” _ Here they paused before scribbling the next words.  _ “—human parents were always mad. They fought a lot. Over me and other things. Then one day when I was still really young my original dad was just gone.” _

A cold shiver passed through Sans. Frisk’s last words reverberated in his mind.  _ Dad was just gone...just gone...gone… _ “That’s rough, kiddo. I’m sorry,” he said aloud.

_ “I think my mom blamed me. She was even more unhappy and mad all the time. Then one day she came home with a new boyfriend. Maybe she’d be happy now and not mad, I hoped. But she wasn’t. There were more fights. She—” _ Frisk dropped the pen and paper and buried their face in their hands, and though they made no sound Sans could tell from the shaking of the child’s shoulders that they were crying.

“Aw, jeez, kiddo…” Sans looked around indecisively.  _ Should I get Toriel? _ Instead he found himself asking, “Do you want a hug, kid?”

Frisk kept their face hidden in their hands but they gave a small nod. Sans put his arms around them in a cautious embrace, feeling their slight body shudder periodically with silent sobs. Slowly though the sobbing quietened. Frisk dropped their hands away from their face and leaned against Sans’s chest with eyes closed.

“Are—are you afraid of me, Sans?” Frisk whispered.

“Huh? Why would you ask that?” asked Sans, not breaking the embrace.

“It’s the way you hug.” Frisk said nothing more for many moments. “I can’t blame you. I hurt so many of you,” they whispered at last. “I’m so sorry, Sans.”

_ Did you hurt us?  _ Sans asked himself. He’d seen so many momentary glimpses of different Frisks in his nightmares, kindly Frisks and angry Frisks, Frisks who were angels of mercy and Frisks who were angels of death. Which of the visions had been even been real? Some of them must have been, surely, but not all of them. “You’ve made up for it, kid. You went back and did right in the end. That’s all that matters.”

“I was in pain,” came the scarcely audible murmur. “I was frightened. I thought everyone was an enemy. Even Papyrus. But after I—after I k—” Again they were forced to stop, racked with noiseless sobs.

A chill went through Sans’s bones.  _ So that one is true, anyway. Frisk did kill my brother once.  _ For a fraction of a second anger rose within him and a blue light flared in his left eye-socket but just as quickly it died.  _ That was a different Frisk, _ Sans admonished himself.  _ Not this kid who won’t even swat a mosquito. _ “You don’t need to punish yourself, kiddo. You don’t have to dwell on it.”

“Mom sa—saved—m—me,” they went on, pushing the words out despite the stammering and the tears. “W—w—why did it ta—take me so—so—l—long—”

“Shhh. Frisk, shhh...stop trying to explain. Just breathe, kiddo, you don’t need to talk. It’s okay now. You’re okay now.” Sans gingerly patted the young human’s back until the sobs stopped and the rise and fall of their chest slowed to a calm and regular pace. “Who cares how long it took? You got there, didn’t you?”

“I g—guess so,” whispered Frisk. “You really don't hate me?”

“Hell, no!” Sans replied. “Can’t say I wasn't a little nervous at first, when I first saw you in Snowdin and recognized you, or thought I recognized you anyway. And I kept a close eye on you. But jeez, kid, every single thing you did…” Sans looked Frisk in the eyes. “Your mom was one hundred percent right about you. You know, it stung a bit, leaving you to yourself in the royal hall. I really thought…heh.” Sans paused, feeling an unfamiliar emotion stirring beneath his attempt to maintain an even tone. “I’d spent all that time watching out for you, so it was a bit hard to see you go off alone to face King Asgore. One way or another…I figured I wasn't gonna see you again.” The emotion was bubbling closer to the surface; it was time to deflect if he could. “Turns out you humans are made of  _ sternum  _ stuff, heh heh, sterner, sternum…oh, hell.” Abruptly Sans wrapped his arms snugly around Frisk's body, cradling them against his chest. Frisk responded first with a squeak of surprise and then with a tight embrace in return. “I thought I'd lost you forever, kid,” he said, his voice tremulous.

“You didn't lose me,” whispered Frisk in reply. “D—Dad.”

“Uh.” Sans stared into Frisk's face, eye-sockets wide with shock. “Did you just call me what I thought you called me?”

Frisk looked placidly back at Sans, their face now at its most neutral, as if calling animated skeletons “Dad” were a routine matter for them. “You're gonna be my mom's boyfriend, right?” they whispered.

“Well, yeah, but—”

“And I miss having a dad,” they went on. “A real dad. Mom’s wonderful but she's so busy sometimes. Half the time I'm hanging out with you anyway. You're practically my dad already.”

“You got a point there but—”

“Sans? Frisk?” Toriel’s head popped into view from the kitchen. “Are you done with your conversation?” Her eyes narrowed and her face grew worried. “Frisk, dear child, have you been crying? Sans, what have you been talking about?”

Frisk quickly held up their hands, palms outward in reassurance, then signed,  _ “Mom, it’s okay! It’s all good!” _

“Are you sure?” Swiftly Toriel wiped her paws on her apron and came over to the couch, kneeling to put one arm around her child, the other around Sans. “Are you both really all right?”

“Yeah, Tori,” Sans answered. “It got a bit emotional, that’s all, but we’re fine, aren’t we kid?”

“Yes. I’ve never been better,” Frisk whispered, looking from Toriel to Sans. “Mom. Dad.”

Toriel’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped open. “‘Dad’?”

The front door flew open. “I HAVE RETURNED! BEARING GIFTS OF CREAM, ICED AND OTHERWISE!” Papyrus cried, before he noticed the attitude of the others. “Toriel? Frisk? Brother? Is everything quite all right?”

“Depends, bro,” Sans replied. “How do you feel about being an uncle?”

“WOWIE!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still having trouble getting back into the swing of writing. I dithered for the longest time about what should go into this chapter; I was at first intending something quick a bit fluffier but instead, once again, I ended up going in a darker direction than I anticipated.
> 
> Insofar as I have any headcanon worked out for my version of Frisk, they did go through at least one pass through the Underground where they killed a number of monsters, at first just out of fear, but they were able to stop themselves after they killed Papyrus. On a later run they ended up staying with Toriel for quite a long while, from which Frisk emerged considerably changed.


	6. Dinner or Dessert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans rubbed his cheekbone gently against Toriel’s back. “For hundreds of years you’ve been everyone's mom, Tori,” he said. “Looking after all your children, your students, your people…even looking after me. But you don't need to be mom now. Not tonight.”
> 
> “Is that what I do?” Toriel said, abashed. “It has been so long since I was anything else but a caretaker, forever laboring under a heavy weight of responsibility…but is that not why I was drawn to you? When you visited me, I could forget for a little while that I was trying to…well…”
> 
> “Trying to save the whole damn world all by yourself?”

“Er, pardon me for saying this, friends,” asked Papyrus, “but shouldn’t we think about having some sort of dinner before eating dessert? A balanced diet is important!”

Late afternoon sunshine was slanting through the windows of Sans’s and Papyrus’s house by the time the two brothers, Toriel, and Frisk sat down at the dining room table with a selection of pies in front of them: a classic apple, a pumpkin pie, and the original goal of Sans’s boozy baking experiment days before, a chocolate cream pie topped with meringue toasted a golden brown.

“Bro, we’re made of magic,” Sans replied. “I don’t think recommended dietary allowances mean much for us.”

“But the young human should be getting their vitamins and minerals! I should cook them a nutritious pasta dish!” Papyrus began to push his chair away from the table.

“My  _ dear  _ Papyrus!” said Toriel. “I assure you that my child gets a healthful diet in the regular course of their week. This is a special occasion! I think they will survive one meal of dessert without dinner.”

Frisk leaned over to Sans and whispered a few words, one of which sounded like “snails”. Sans’s eyes twinkled and he began chuckling. “Nice one, kiddo.”

“Frisk!” Toriel looked at them, slightly nettled. “I thought you enjoyed my snail cuisine!”

“I do, mom,” they signed. “But a change is nice.”

Toriel, mollified, handed the pie knife to Sans. “I believe, dear Sans, that you should have the honor of the first slice.” She scooted her chair a little closer to Sans’s and leaned over to nose his cheekbone. “You have done a wonderful job in the kitchen, my dear. You are an excellent student.”

“Aw, Tori,” said Sans, blushing. “We don’t know that yet, we haven’t tasted anything.”

“I am confident in the success of your efforts,” Toriel said into Sans’s cheekbone, which she was still nuzzling.

Despite the pleasant distraction of Toriel’s muzzle pressed to his face Sans succeeded in serving himself a wedge of chocolate cream pie. “And for you, Tori?” he asked.

“Apple for me, please,” she answered, giving Sans’s cheekbone a final nuzzle and peck before turning her attention to the food.

“Pumpkin,” signed Frisk.

“And I shall have a slice of apple pie as well, brother,” said Papyrus.

“Okay!” Sans served up the various pies. Papyrus topped their apple pie with Nice Cream but Toriel opted to eat hers without it. Frisk scooped an enormous mound of whipped cream onto their pumpkin pie before tucking into it. Sans waited nervously as the others began to sample their desserts.

“So...they’re fine...right?” he timidly asked.

Frisk swallowed their mouthful of pie, smiled and gave an “OK” sign and a thumbs up. Papyrus nodded excitedly.

“This is superb, Sans! I believe even Muffet would be pleased.”

“Indeed, Sans,” Toriel said. “If this is how well you perform after one session of hands-on instruction, I cannot  _ wait _ to see what skills you develop after some advanced…” She began to giggle and Sans smiled, knowing exactly what was coming. “...tu- _ Toriels. _ ”

Sans and Frisk both laughed but Papyrus sagged in his seat. “Qu—that is—Lady Toriel,” he asked, “Haven't I heard this joke from you before?”

Sans winked at his brother. “You’d better count on hearing it again, bro, and a lot of others too. I expect Tori will be dropping by a lot more often in the near future, won’t you, Tori?”

Toriel smiled a broad, toothy smile and executed some unseen maneuver under the table that made Sans jump a little in his seat, his eye-sockets popping open wide. “Indeed, I should predict that you will be seeing  _ far _ more of me soon. If, dear Sans, you are willing to entertain me as a suitor?”

“Oh, I'm game, Tori. The queen can come to call on me as often as it  _ suits her. _ ”

Toriel clapped her paws together with a joyous laugh. Sans giggled. Papyrus’s face bore a smile that was equal parts “that's wonderful!” happiness and “what have I gotten myself into” dismay.

“That's…great!” Papyrus said. “I’m glad, Lady Toriel, that you’ll be gracing our house with your presence and your…your…er, overflowing wit. Nyeh heh…heh...oh dear.”

“Papyrus, I must know.” Toriel turned to the flustered skeleton with a compassionate smile. “You have always reacted to our little jokes with some degree of asperity. Does the wordplay in which your brother and I indulge…truly offend you? For I will gladly refrain if you wish it.”

Papyrus gasped in horror. “Your highness!” he exclaimed, swiftly bowing his head. “I wouldn't dream of telling you what you should or shouldn't do!”

“Then tell me, dear Papyrus, what troubles you about our puns?”

“I'm no good at them,” he squeaked. 

Toriel’s eyes widened. “What are you saying?”

“I'm no good at them!” Papyrus clutched his hands together in front of himself. “Even after studying Sans’s joke books! As long as I’ve lived with my brother I’ve wanted to be able to keep up with him and his puns but when I'm in the middle of a conversation I can't think of a single one!”

Frisk pushed their now-empty plate away from them and dug out their notebook, quickly scribbing a few words down and holding them up for Papyrus and then everyone else to see:  _ “Fangs for visiting our website.” _

“Frisk! You remember that? Nyeh! My one successful pun!” Papyrus’s face brightened for a second, then fell again. “But by the time I thought of it Sans had already left the room…”

“Papyrus, bro…” Sans reached over and laid a friendly hand over his brother’s. “Just because you’re not fluent with bad jokes doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a silly thing Tori and me do. Doesn’t mean you’re not the coolest brother ever. “‘Cause you are.”

“Thanks, Sans, but it makes me a little sad that I can’t share this with you,” said Papyrus. “It feels like one more thing you’re great at that I can’t do. Like math.”

“Hey, bro, listen.” Sans looked his brother in the face. “Do you want me to list all the things I’m terrible with but you’re great at? Like keeping this place afloat, for one.” He gestured to indicate the household around them. “And if you  _ really _ want to get good at puns, Papyrus, I can always put you through training.”

“Sans, you’ve never made this offer before!” said Papyrus.

“You never told me you were interested, bro.”

“You’d train me, really?”

“Me?” Sans grinned, lazily pushing some crumbs of pie crust around his plate with his fork. “Nah, I’d just get Undyne to do it. You actually  _ listen _ to her. She’d be better at it anyway. I’d go too easy on you but she’d put you through a  _ pun _ -ishing workout.”

“...Argh!”

* * *

 

With “dinner” over, the dining table cleared, and the leftover pies wrapped with Saran and stowed in the refrigerator, Toriel hugged Frisk and gave them permission, joyfully accepted, to accompany Papyrus back to his room, ostensibly to solve puzzles again. “Besides,” she had told Frisk out of Papyrus’s earshot, “Sans and I may wish to exchange a few words on personal affairs _.  _ I am sure you understand, my child.” So with a nod, a knowing smile and a flurry of signs Frisk had run off, tugging Papyrus with them by the hand, and Sans had followed Toriel into the kitchen where she set herself immediately to the tidying-up.

“Gee, Tori, you don't have to do the dishes  _ too, _ ” said an embarrassed Sans as he leaned a shoulder against the refrigerator, watching Toriel stride about the kitchen, gathering up utensils and rinsing dirty plates. “I may be lazy but I do keep the kitchen cleaned up. When I get round to it.”

“It's no trouble, Sans,” said Toriel over her shoulder as she stacked dishes in the brothers’ dishwasher. “I suppose it has become something of a reflex with me, having had nothing to do for so long but maintain a household, but—“

“Tori. Tori.” Sans pushed himself away from the refrigerator and went to Toriel, slipping his arms about her waist and resting his cheekbone against her back. At the first touch of Sans's hands Toriel grew still, ceasing her bustling and closing her eyes, letting her paws relax and drop to her sides.

“That...feels very nice, Sans,” she murmured. 

Sans rubbed his cheekbone gently against Toriel’s back. “For hundreds of years you’ve been everyone's mom, Tori,” he said. “Looking after all your children, your students, your people…even looking after me. But you don't need to be mom now. Not tonight.”

“Is that what I do?” Toriel said, abashed. “It has been so long since I was anything else but a caretaker, forever laboring under a heavy weight of responsibility…but is that not why I was drawn to you? When you visited me, I could forget for a little while that I was trying to…well…”

“Trying to save the whole damn world all by yourself?” Sans offered, his voice soothing, his hands gentle as they petted Toriel's stomach. “And it's been saved. For a while anyway. I think it’ll survive you being irresponsible for a few hours. I'll take care of the kitchen mess in the morning.”

Toriel exhaled a deep, relaxing sigh. “I suppose you are right, Sans. After all…” She turned herself around in the skeleton’s embrace to face him, gazing down at Sans's smiling face, leaning her long muzzle down to kiss the top of his head. “That  _ is _ why I am here, when all is said and done.” She kissed Sans again, keeping her nose pressed gently to his skull as she purred her next words. “To give myself, at long last, permission to be… _ irresponsible _ .”

“Oh, jeez, Tori…” Sans blushed. “You're taking my suggestion and really running with it, heh. Guess I gotta ask then…uh…were you counting on—um, that is, what were your evening plans?”

“Plans?” Toriel raised her head, eyes staring blankly for a second, momentarily nonplussed. Then she laughed. “I confess that I had not been thinking that far ahead. I knew that I wanted to come her to help you, but also that I wanted…well…” She hugged her arms tightly around Sans's shoulders. “I knew that I wanted you. But I did not exactly  _ plan _ on, ah…current developments.”

Sans chuckled. “I guess I can say the same thing. But I gotta tell you, before you get too many hopes up…I, um…” He hid his bright blue face in the valley of Toriel's chest. “I, uh, ain't never been in this position before,” he went on, his words muffled and scarcely audible. “Never, um, been with anyone. Like this.”

“Oh!” said Toriel. “I am  _ slightly  _ surprised. You are so well liked that I had  _ assumed _ that at some point you, ah, had perhaps attracted the attention of an admirer…”

Sans chuckled. “Heh, if I'd ever been the object of  _ that _ sort of attention from anyone—well, anyone but you—I never knew about it.”

“Did you never harbor a crush toward anyone?” Toriel asked, stroking her paws over the back of Sans's head. 

“Other than you?” Sans looked up at Toriel's face, a warm light glowing in his eye-sockets. “Nah, never even occurred to me. Never thought of anyone I met that way, ever.” His brow ridges contracted and his manner grew hesitant. “Maybe it's always been in the back of my mind that…me and my brother, maybe we were meant to be alone.”

“Nonsense.” Toriel leaned her long muzzle down to kiss the top of Sans’s head. “In my years of darkness I once came to believe much the same, but I do not believe it any more. You however…” Her face grew sad. “You have a harder burden to live with, perhaps, than mine ever was. You have been robbed even of the memories of your parents.”

“Well, yeah. And more. I must’ve been a little kid at some point, right? Not that I can remember. I don’t remember Papyrus as a kid either. I know all this math and science stuff, but I don’t recall any lessons. Hell, Tori, I can’t even tell you for sure how many years I’ve been alive.” Sans chuckled. “Jeez, you’re probably like ten times as old as I am.” 

“Mmm,” Toriel replied, gazing into Sans’s eye-sockets as if she could see through them into his soul. “If so, there is an air of maturity about you that belies your tender years.”

“Heh. Heh.” Sans looked down, abashed. “You sure know how to make a guy feel special.”

“You deserve it.” Toriel gently took both of Sans’s hands in her paws. “Now, Sans. To return to your earlier question. What I do with the rest of my evening, I leave entirely up to you. I do not wish to make you feel uncomfortable or that I am exerting any undue pressure on you. If you wish me to leave, I will retrieve Frisk and leave here with a smile on my face and a light heart. I mean that. However…” She leans down, bringing her long face closer to Sans’s, and once again Sans felt the change in atmosphere around Toriel, the faint but irresistible scent pervading the air with the warmth from her body. “...if you should like me to stay longer, I would be... _ honored _ , Sans, to accept your invitation.”

Sans tried to control his breathing. “What about Frisk? And Papyrus? I mean, uh, not sure you’d want them...er, what you’re okay with them overhearing, I mean.”

Toriel smiled thoughtfully. “I suspect that Frisk already has some idea of what might happen, and may in fact already be messaging all their friends about us.” Her smile twitched into a lopsided grin. “They can be such an... _ interesting _ child. However, especially if you are feeling shy, I can entrust Frisk to Papyrus’s care for a few hours and ask them to give us some privacy.”

Sans felt a knot in his nonexistent bowels and he stared at his slippers. Some part of him, even now, was urging him to take the exit that Toriel was graciously leaving open for him.  _ This is too much for you all at once, _ said this part.  _ Say a polite goodbye, maybe a hug and a quick kiss, then go back to your room and  _ **_relax._ ** _ There’s always later, if “later” ever comes. _ But suddenly the thought of the evening hours stretching in front of him without Toriel there to fill them was too much to bear.

Sans met Toriel’s gaze again. “Tori,” he said softly, “Would you like to spend the rest of the evening with me?”

Toriel’s eyes blazed with a sudden fire. “Sans,” she said almost in a growl, “I accept your invitation.” She dropped to one knee to bring her face level to Sans’s, cradled his head in both her paws and brought her lips to his face. One lip pressed against his maxilla, her other lip against his mandible, and her tongue pushed out between them; he felt her tongue-tip brushing against his teeth, and a pleasant shiver passed through him. He parted his jaws a little and Toriel’s tongue slipped inside. He shuddered again, feeling as he had never felt before so strongly the intersection of another monster’s magical aura with his own. Even in his most personal moments with his brother had Sans never been so aware of the proximity of another soul, luminous and vital, throbbing so close to his own—

_ Click! _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...I had originally been planning on wrapping the story up with this chapter, but a couple of comments have got me seriously thinking of taking this in a more R-rated direction than I had been planning at first. So there'll be a couple more chapters at least and it may actually get smutty. (If it does I'll change the story flags to reflect this but not until then.) It'll be...an interesting challenge.
> 
> Still working out headcanon about Sans's and Papyrus's past and relationship to the vanished Gaster.


	7. Music with Her Silver Sound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh, gee. Tori...before we do anything, um...I just have to ask...what do you, uh, expect of me exactly?”
> 
> “Expect?” Toriel loosened her grip a little and interrupted her kissing. “I am not certain of what you mean, Sans.”
> 
> “Like, uh...what do you think I’m, um, capable of doing with you?” Sans’s cheekbones were hot and bright blue with chagrin but he had to keep going. “’Cause I gotta warn you before we get any further, Tori, there’s some things I can’t do, as a skeleton. So I don’t want you to get certain hopes up.”
> 
> “Oh. Ohhh!” Toriel giggled. “I understand now. You want to know what sort of sex I am hoping to have with you.”
> 
> “Tori!” Sans turned even bluer. “Did you have to put it like that?”

 

_What the—?_ Sans jerked his head toward the soft but unexpected sound. Toriel’s eyes popped open as Sans inadvertently tugged her muzzle with him; she attempted to speak, but with her tongue still thrust between Sans’s teeth all she managed to produce was a strangled interrogative noise.

Sans beheld in the doorway Frisk, their expression at its most detached and neutral, camera poised for another photograph. They had one eye closed as they held their free hand out, fingers extended in an ‘L’ as though Frisk were a cinematographer framing a perfect shot. Papyrus was standing behind them, trying as hard as possible to look as though he’d just happened to be there even though his eye-sockets were open wider and rounder than Sans had ever seen them and his jawbones were creased into a grin that Sans hadn’t known his brother’s face was physically capable of sustaining. And from Frisk’s phone came a joyful holler: “SO? HAVE YOU GOT THAT PHOTO YET, PUNK? ALPHY AND I ARE  _WAITING,_ YOU LITTLE TEASE!”

Toriel hastily untangled herself from Sans’s jaw, scrambling and stumbling in her haste to get back to her feet. “My  _child!_ ” she exclaimed, her voice echoing with distant thunder.

Sans was still feeling too relaxed to bother with any sudden movement but there was a sharper than usual glint in his eyesocket as he favored Frisk with a sarcastic smile. “Seriously, kid, I hope this isn’t going to become some kinda habit with you, popping into the room every time your mom and I are making out.”

Frisk hurriedly cut short another of Undyne’s exclamations and pocketed their phone, drooping their head a little.  _“Sorry,”_ they signed, abashed.

Papyrus leapt into the kitchen ahead of Frisk, still grinning but now in frenzied ingratiation. “Do not blame the human! Nyeh, heh! The fault is entirely mine, your Majesty! I mean, Queen Toriel! That is to say, L—” The frantic skeleton began furiously bowing to Toriel, bony hands clasped together at his sternum. Frisk stepped toward him and laid a restraining hand upon his arm. Papyrus’s apology stuttered to a halt.

“ _Papyrus did suggest I call Undyne with the news about you and Sans,”_ Frisk signed to Toriel. They hesitated for a few moments, hands paused in mid-sign, embarrassment playing over the features of their face, before continuing. _“Undyne became very excited and wanted to know more, and she talked me into…”_

Toriel nodded, her momentary flash of anger already fading away into compassion and mercy. “Come here, my child,” she crooned, arms extended, and Frisk obediently walked into their mother’s welcoming embrace. “Undyne is a special friend to you, I know.” Frisk nodded vigorously. “And I know that you enjoy the moment of fun that you share with her. But if she asks you for a photograph of Sans and myself in a private moment,  _please,_ dear child, ask our permission next time.”

Sans nodded assent. “Yeah, at least you can let us see the pic first. Maybe I wanna make sure I’m showing off my best side.”

Frisk giggled, their dark cheeks blushing even darker, and retrieved their phone. Dismissing the pile of text message notifications from Undyne—“YOU AND PAPYRUS JUST MADE THIS ALL UP DIDN’T YOU” was the last one—Frisk opened the photograph and held it out for everyone to see. Papyrus unfolded himself from his posture of genuflection so he could have a look.

“Oh, wow!” he said, beaming again. “I’ve never seen my brother look so... _romantic!”_

And it was true, Sans had to admit to himself in spite of his discomfiture when he saw his diminutive form wrapped in Toriel’s arms, jaws parted to accept Toriel’s kiss, eyesockets closed in evident bliss as his fingers pressed into Toriel’s back. “Uh...um,” he said at last. “Yeah, Frisk, you can send that to Undyne if you want, I won’t stop you.”

Toriel laughed her softest, most musical laugh, a chuckle that sent a warm shiver down Sans’s spine. “I agree, my child. You have my permission to show this to Undyne, even though in so doing you  _are_ guaranteeing that every monster in Ebottsville will know about their queen’s love life by tomorrow morning. I cannot bring myself to be annoyed.” Toriel gently stroked Frisk’s dark hair. “In a way I am glad. It reminds me of the carefree days of my youth. My salad days, when I was green in judgment but by no means cold of blood.” Her last sentence prompted a quizzical look from Frisk and Papyrus, but Sans caught the reference and smiled.

Sans slipped an arm around Toriel’s waist, looking up at her. “So, Tori, uh...maybe we should tell Papyrus and Frisk that we want some, uh, personal time...”

“Oh, yes!” Toriel put her paws together, her manner businesslike as she addressed the two of them. “My child. Dear Papyrus. Sans and I have decided that we would like to spend a quiet evening together here, if neither of you has any objections. However we would like a few hours of privacy. Papyrus, would you object to guarding my child for a time? Perhaps you can drive them into the city to see a film, or entertain them in some other way.”

Frisk smiled and looked expectantly from their mother to Papyrus, whose eyesockets lit up at the word “guarding”. He snapped upright and dipped his head by way of a salute. “I would be honored to look after your child, Lady Toriel! I assure you that to the best of my ability I will keep them safe from all harms!”

“I am certain that you will, my friend. Permit me to give you some ready money.” She left the kitchen in search of her purse, the others trooping after her; when she located it, she withdrew a thin stack of bills from her pocketbook. “About sixty dollars should keep the both of you preoccupied, I think. And Papyrus? If you _do_ take my child to a movie theater, see to it that they do not buy too many hot dogs.” Frisk blushed again and Sans stifled a laugh.

“Yes, ma’am!”

* * *

With Frisk safely in Papyrus’s custody and given strict instructions not to come home before ten and not without calling ahead first—the young ambassador had smiled broadly and winked at this last direction—Toriel and Sans were securely ensconced on the living-room couch, ostensibly to watch cooking shows together, but their attention soon wandered away from Alton Brown. Before long Toriel was sprawling in blissful languor over the couch’s full length, head pillowed against a cushion and cradling Sans to her body with both arms, stroking the long digits of her paws over the contours of the bones beneath Sans’s clothing. A warm glow was in Sans’s eyesockets as he nestled against Toriel’s belly and chest, rubbing his face slowly into the soft, aromatic fur that peeped out from above the neckline of the violet dress.

“Mm,” he said, as Toriel pressed her muzzle to the top of Sans’s skull, treating him to a successful of little kisses and teasing licks. “You feel...great, Tori. You smell great, too. But I gotta admit that your belt buckle is digging into my leg a bit.”

“Oh, is it?” Toriel whispered, not interrupting her string of kisses. “I can dispense with the belt, if you like.” Sans felt her arms curl around his body a little more tightly, and an intoxicating note crept into the earthy scent of her body. “I can dispense with much else besides, Sans. If you are willing.” She insinuated a paw underneath Sans’s shirt, tracing the line of one of his ribs with a delicate fingertip.

“Oh, gee. Tori.” The rush of new sensations was making Sans giddy but with some effort he collected himself to ask the question that he had been shoving to the back of his mind since he and Toriel had kissed. “I think I’d love that, Tori, but before we do anything, um...I just have to ask...what do you, uh, expect of me exactly?”

“Expect?” Toriel loosened her grip a little and interrupted her kissing. “I am not certain of what you mean, Sans.”

“Like, uh...what do you think I’m, um, capable of doing with you?” Sans’s cheekbones were hot and bright blue with chagrin but he had to keep going. “’Cause I gotta warn you before we get any further, Tori, there’s some things I _can’t_ do, as a skeleton. So I don’t want you to get certain hopes up.”

“Oh. Ohhh!” Toriel giggled. “I understand now. You want to know what sort of sex I am hoping to have with you.”

“Tori!” Sans turned even bluer. “Did you have to put it like _that?”_

“Sans, you bashful innocent.” Toriel gently took his head between her paws and planted a kiss on his forehead. “Are you really that shocked? I happen to _love_ sex, I will have you know. Why do you suppose I was so enthralled by Prince Asgore back in his day? It certainly was not his brains.”

“Well, I wasn’t around then,” Sans replied, still having some difficulty in looking Toriel in the eyes. “I guess I never really thought about it much, but, eh, you don’t exactly come across like a horny goat, not usually.”  
“No, not any more. They had to train that out of me, when I married the Prince.” Toriel’s brown eyes grew thoughtful as she caressed Sans's head with her paws, and reminisced. “I fear that I was a source of exasperation to Asgore’s advisors, at first. A fun-loving monster girl who had no use for formality and ceremony, who wasn’t above cursing in public or grabbing my husband’s ass if I felt like it.” Toriel laughed. “Why do you suppose we all got to calling him ‘Fluffybuns’? My fault, I must confess.”

Sans chuckled. “Wow, Tori. It’s...well, I wish I could’ve seen it.”

Toriel smiled and kissed Sans again. “But do you know, Sans? Before long I learned to my surprise that I  _enjoyed_ the pomp and the palaver of the queenly role. Wearing formal clothes, speaking with the measured and elaborate diction of a monarch. I was  _good_ at it. It made me feel like, oh, a monster of substance, someone who commanded respect. And so here I am today, an elderly lady who takes three times as long to say what is on her mind as she really needs.” She fixed Sans with an intense gaze. “So I will get to the point. I am a woman of simple pleasures and comforts, Sans. One of those pleasures is being fucked. It did occur to me that this might not be something you were physically capable of giving me, at least not the way that...” Her gaze flickered for a moment, and she drew a deep breath to calm herself. “...not the way Asgore could, at any rate. But that does not matter. I love  _you_ , Sans, not your ‘equipment’ or my expectations for it. I am not here tonight because I was hoping to fuck. I wanted to spend my evening alone with you, Sans, and touch you and be touched. I ask for nothing more.”

When Toriel was done speaking Sans exhaled a breath that he did not know he had been holding. Tension and worry evaporated from him. “Tori. Thank you,” he replied, leaning his head forward and pressing his maxilla to Toriel's lips. “You’re right in your guess about my ‘equipment’. I’m not really wired for sex. It’s not that I’m not attracted to you! I actually, well...I think you’re pretty hot and I’ve been kinda dying to see you without your dress. But it’s a bit different a feeling from wanting to bone you. At least, I think it’s different.” Sans shrugged. “It’s not like I’ll ever really know, I suppose.”

Toriel giggled. “What  _is_ it like for you, then? Can you explain it?”

“Huh. Maybe? I’ll try anyway.” Sans arranged himself more comfortably atop Toriel, pillowing his head on one of her breasts, eliciting from her a soft, bleating grunt of pleasure that sent a thrill through Sans's bones. “When I get close, like this, with you...my soul responds to you. It’s like I can sense just how joyful your soul is right now, and it makes my own soul joyful. It feels like listening to a really emotional piece of music, except it’s way stronger than that.” Gently he cupped Toriel’s other breast in his bony fingers, applying the gentlest pressure to its soft roundness; Toriel shuddered at the touch and grunted deep in her chest. “Papyrus has his own music. Papyrus's soul feels to me like some ridiculously peppy, upbeat song, like I’m having the time of my life on an amusement park merry-go-round and singing along to the calliope. God, Tori, Papyrus can make me so _happy,_ did you know that?”

Toriel nodded and ran a loving paw over Sans’s left cheekbone. “I have seen it, Sans. Your brother is very dear to you, is he not?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe, Tori. With you, though, my soul hears a different sort of tune. It’s like...I dunno, like listening to a great pianist. Everything about you is musical to me, Toriel...the way you look, the way you move, the way you talk, the way you laugh. Wow, _especially_ the way you laugh.”

Toriel chuckled. “No wonder you kept coming back to practice your jokes at my door, dearest Sans."

Sans grinned sheepishly. “It wasn’t  _just_ about making you laugh but it was a big thing, yeah, I’ll admit to that."

"I once felt...I still sometimes feel..." replied Toriel, a little hesitant, "...that nothing I could do would ever suffice to repay you, Sans, for the gift of your laughter in those dark days. Yet now you tell me that my own laughter and my own voice are like music to you...I do not know what to say."

"It's true, Tori. That’s the way you’re making me feel right now. Like I’m listening to a beautiful concerto. Sometimes it’s quiet and soothing, but sometimes...” With a fingertip Sans traced the contours of Toriel’s breast, pressing gently through the fabric of her dress and of her brassiere, feeling the warmth of the soft-furred flesh beneath the layers. Toriel gasped, and a short moan escaped from her parted lips. “...sometimes there’s depth and feeling and passion, too. I can feel that passion in your soul, Tori. It feels...amazing.”

Toriel bit back another moan, breathing heavily to steady her voice. “Please, take me to your bed, Sans,” she whispered, her voice sultry and yearning. “It has been so long since I have felt the touch of another body against mine, with nothing between...please, Sans, make love to me.”

The fire Sans had kindled in Toriel’s soul had spread to his own, and there was no more hesitation. He carefully eased himself off Toriel’s body and stood close to her, holding out one hand. “Come with me, Tori.”

Grasping his hand in her paw Toriel rose from the couch. Together they left the living room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a long, long wait and about a million things have happened with me in between now and when I last updated this story, but I think I can safely say that it is, at last, back on track. I still have a decision to make about how, ah, detailed I intend to get in the next chapter.
> 
> Two Shakespeare references in this one.


	8. Queen, Mother, Lover, Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...she rolled herself closer to Sans, throwing an arm and a leg over Sans’s skeletal form, drawing him close against the voluptuous curves of her torso. Sans sighed in bliss as his bones nudged against her yielding flesh. Toriel pressed her muzzle to Sans’s face and looked into his eyesockets. “You do not mind that I call you that? ‘Lover’?”
> 
> Sans snickered. “I shouldn’t think so, not after making you come three times in one night. I’ll take ‘lover’. Or ‘boyfriend’, since I have a feeling we’ll be wanting to do this again soon.”
> 
> Toriel rolled her eyes in simulated exasperation. “I do not think that it entirely suits one of my years and my station to have a mere ‘boyfriend’. I am several centuries too old to have a ‘boyfriend’. Besides, that would make me your ‘girlfriend’. Now do I look like a ‘girlfriend’, Sans?”

“... _Fuck!”_

For a minute Toriel could manage no further words. Her nude body, splayed skyward on Sans’s rumpled bed, still trembled with the aftershocks of her climax. The still air of the little room was heavy and pungent with her musk. Sans, stripped to his bare bones, lay against her side, one hand resting on her shoulder, the other deftly slipped between her inner thighs, fingertips exploring every crevice of Toriel’s vulva.

“...Sans...” panted Toriel, once she had recovered more breath. “...are you _entirely_ sure you have never done this with anyone before?”

Sans allowed himself a low chuckle, withdrawing his fingers slowly from between Toriel’s labia and running his fingertips, still damp, through the thick, velvety fur that grew over her mons. She gasped and bleated again, her body convulsing with fresh waves of pleasure.

“Unhh! Oh! That is...ohhh...S-Sans, that is...almost too much...” Toriel at last brushed her paw against the back of Sans’s hand, as if to say, “Enough.” Sans desisted from further teasing and settled his arm gently over her body, easing himself into a more snug and comfortable position against Toriel’s side. He drew his arm close under her breasts, feeling their warmth and their softness gently rubbing against his bones.

“Oh, yes, Sans,” Toriel whispered, shuddering a little as his arm lightly stroked the underside of her breasts. “You...keep doing that. Ohhh...how are you so _good_ at this, Sans?”

“I’m just a good listener, Tori,” he replied. “Your body is telling me everything I need to know.” He extended his thumb to brush against the gentle swell of Toriel’s nipple where it emerged through the silky fur that covered her breast. She responded with a moan and another shiver of delight that sent sympathetic vibrations coursing down Sans’s spine.

“Aah! Yes! You can...oooh...you can keep doing that too.” She bent her long muzzle down to plant a warm, wet kiss on Sans’s brow. “Sans, you cannot possibly imagine how much I needed this. Thank you.”

Sans grinned, rubbing his cheekbone against Toriel’s shoulder, beaming with delight. “Maybe I can’t but I can make a couple good guesses. Especially the first time I got you off, Tori. I’m surprised you didn’t start shooting fire out of your nostrils, it was that intense.” Sans’s soul glowed with remembered ecstasy of that moment, when he first succeeded in making Toriel scream with rapture, a tear forming in the corner of her eye and great shudders convulsing her whole body as the probing tip of Sans’s finger dancing over Toriel’s clitoris finally sent her arousal crashing over the edge into orgasm.

Toriel giggled, not without a little pride in having made such an impression. “I am perhaps not usually _that_ vocal. But it has been about eight decades since last I found comfort in the arms of a lover.” At this she rolled herself closer to Sans, throwing an arm and a leg over Sans’s skeletal form, drawing him close against the voluptuous curves of her torso. Sans sighed in bliss as his bones nudged against her yielding flesh. Toriel pressed her muzzle to Sans’s face and looked into his eyesockets. “You do not mind that I call you that? ‘Lover’?”

Sans snickered. “I shouldn’t think so, not after making you come three times in one night. I’ll take ‘lover’. Or ‘boyfriend’, since I have a feeling we’ll be wanting to do this again soon.”

Toriel rolled her eyes in simulated exasperation. “I do not think that it entirely suits one of my years and my station to have a mere ‘boyfriend’. I am several centuries too old to have a ‘boyfriend’. Besides, that would make _me_ your ‘girlfriend’. Now do I _look_ like a ‘girlfriend’, Sans?”

He ran his appreciative gaze down the length of her plump and shapely body. “No, you’re way too classy a woman for ‘girlfriend’, you’ve got me there.”

“Then you shall be my lover.” Toriel kissed Sans again. “Or I could call you my ‘consort’ but ‘consort’ is rather too stuffy a word even for me.”

Sans tried but failed to suppress a laugh, remembering his earlier talk with Frisk and his brother. “Papyrus seemed to think hooking up with you was gonna make a me king or something.”

Toriel bleated in amusement. “You do not wish to be a king, do you?”

“A _king?_ I can barely run a hot dog stand!”

A speculative look came into Toriel’s eye as she stroked a meditative paw down Sans’s sternum. “It is not out of the question, you know. There are such things as ‘letters patent’. I could ennoble you, if you wished to take my side not only as my lover but also as my co-regnant.”

“Tori,” said Sans, looking askance at her, “you’re not _really_ considering making me some kind of ruler, are you? You’re the smart one who knows about leadership and I’m just a guy who sleeps on the job and reads MAD Magazine. I’ll leave you to make all the important decisions, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh, I was speaking mostly in jest,” Toriel said, trying to sound reassuring. “I would not dream of forcing you into any position that you wished to avoid, Sans. I do feel, however, that you somewhat undervalue yourself. When I was in exile I knew you only as a teller of jokes, but since then I have perceived that there is so much more to you. More than once I have wished that, when I was faced with some difficult matter as a teacher or as a queen, I had you with me—that I might benefit from your kindly advice. Your uncanny sense of... _judgment.”_

“Judgment,” Sans could not help but repeat. Manifold images fleeted through his head, overlapping memories of a colonnaded hallway filled with golden radiance. Between the ticks of a second a red-eyed demon stared back at Sans from between the columns, a demon clutching a filthy chef’s knife. But the memory shimmered and blurred and the demon became a lonely child clutching an ancient cell phone, bruised and battered by long travels far from home and from hope, the _human_ child he had blindly promised a weeping voice behind a stone door that he would protect—the child who, the moment they recognised who it was that advanced toward them out of the shadows of the hall into the light, greeted him with the luminous smile of an old friend.

“Sans?” asked Toriel. “Have I said anything amiss?”

Sans snapped his attention to Toriel’s face. “Oh, no, you’re fine, Tori! I, uh, I guess I’m a bit stunned that you’d think so highly of my opinions. I guess...well, I’ve made a couple of good decisions here and there, as it’s turned out. And you can always come to me for advice! But I’d rather not turn giving advice into a government job, if you don’t mind.” He gazed into Toriel’s eyes and laid hold of her shoulders in both hands. “If ever you want me to help you, I’ll always be ready to listen. As your lover, and as your friend. Isn’t that enough?”

Toriel’s eyes misted over and she nodded, muzzle creased into a smile. “More than I once dreamed I would ever deserve, dearest Sans. You are right.”

Sans bussed her nose. “Just introduce me in public as your slacker court favorite and I’ll be happy.”

“You are so adorably modest.” Toriel rolled onto her back, effortlessly carrying Sans with her in a intimate embrace.

Sans laughed. “You’ve got a talent for sweeping me off my feet, Tori.”

Toriel giggled again. “Mmm. What time is it anyway? I confess, Sans,” she went on, lowering her voice to an amorous purr, “that I would not mind another—”

A tinkly piano tune, jarring in the warm silence of the tiny room, rang out from Toriel’s phone, which she had carelessly tossed to the floor near Sans’s bed on her way into his bedroom. “Oh, heavens,” she muttered with a hint of irritation, “it must be later than I thought. Pardon me, Sans.” She eased his body off her torso and swung herself into a sitting position on the edge of the mattress. As she bent down to scoop up her phone Sans lounged on the bed, idly studying the curves of her back and hips. “As I thought. It is past ten and your brother is calling.”

“Want me to deal with him?” asked Sans.

“No, I am equal to this task. But I am slightly annoyed that your brother, for all his sterling qualities, still has not learned that I prefer he _text_ me.” Toriel answered the phone with her sweetest, most secretarial tone. “Why, hello Papyrus!” she warbled. Sans could almost make out Papyrus’s loud and enthusiastic replies; his brother shared with Undyne a faulty sense of the volume needed to converse by phone. “What a pleasant surprise it is to hear from you...yes, you may return home with my child now...we are done for the night, I think.” At this she craned her head backward to give Sans a look of mild regret. “At any rate both Frisk and I must return to our home and rest before tomorrow’s activities...my _dear_ Papyrus, your brother and I enjoyed ourselves thoroughly; that is all you need to know...I imagine we will be doing this more often, yes.” She chuckled. “I hope that you and my child has an enjoyable evening as well. Did you in fact take in a movie?...the LEGO Batman, indeed? I was somewhat curious about that film myself. I trust that it was not inappropriate viewing for my young Frisk...why of course I wish to speak to them!” Toriel lowered her voice to a kindly murmur. “Hello, my child. It is nice to hear your voice...did you have fun with Uncle Papyrus?...Oh, I am so glad!...Frisk, my dear child, ‘fun’ is not quite the word for what Sans and I had, but yes. This has been the best night of my life in a long time...I love you too, Frisk. Now return with Papyrus and by the time you arrive I will be ready to take us both home...believe me, dear child, I am tempted, but I do anticipate a rather busy day tomorrow. There will be other evenings, I assure you...” Toriel’s melodious laugh filled the room. “You really are an _interesting_ child, Frisk. Would you like a word with ‘Dad’? Very well...” She turned back to Sans, taking her last opportunity of the night to curl up beside him on the mattress as she handed him her phone.

“Hey there kiddo,” said Sans when he took the phone.

Frisk answered in the quiet, measured whisper that they used when they wished to speak without stammering. “Hi, Dad. It sounds like you and Mom hit it off.”

Sans chuckled. “’Dad’. That’ll take some getting used to, kid. But I kinda like it. And yeah, we had...hoo boy! We had a time.”

“I’m happy that you can make Mom happy. I knew you would.”

“You’ve got a lot of faith in me, kiddo. It...” Sans’s voice wavered for a second. “Well, it means a lot to me, that you believe in me. I want you to know that.”

Frisk’s whisper was scarcely audible, but clear. “You believed in me.”

“Yeah...gee...”

“I love you, Dad,” whispered Frisk.

Sans’s soul flooded with sudden warmth. “I love you too, kiddo. But I’d better let you go now. Get your Uncle Papyrus to drive you home safe. But kid?” Sans lowered his voice. “Make sure he doesn’t get you here _too_ quickly.”

Frisk giggled. “I’ll give you time to clean up. See you and Mom soon.” The connection dropped and Sans gave the phone back to Toriel, who dropped it on Sans’s nightstand.

“Tori,” said Sans, nestling himself close against Tori’s warm belly, “you’ve got one interesting kid.”

“I certainly do. _We_ certainly do.”

“Damn. That _is_ gonna take getting used to.”

“I have every confidence that you will.” Toriel hugged Sans close. “Oh, Sans, I do not wish to get up.”

“Me neither, but we have to, sometime soon.”

“Mmm. How long do you think we have?”

“The way my brother drives? Probably thirty minutes at minimum. Everyone else roars up the mountain road at fifty but he’ll be exactly at the speed limit and no faster the entire way.”

“Sans...” The gleam returned to Toriel’s eye and again the earthy pungency of her sharpened arousal wafted up from her naked body. She took one of Sans’s hands in her paw, gently guiding it to rest on her mons. “...I was hoping you would say that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I agonised over just what I would put into this chapter but some minutes of reflection while listening to a few loops of "It's Raining Somewhere Else" (which may as well be the theme music for this story) gave me the inspiration I needed. I wasn't opposed to writing something overtly pornographic but in the end I felt that it would clash with the mood that I'm striving to create. But I didn't want to leave all sexual activity completely offscreen. I'm fairly happy with the compromise I finally reached.
> 
> One more chapter to go!


	9. Many Happy Returns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You can be uncommonly poetic for one who regards himself merely as a jester.”
> 
> Sans chuckled a little. “Nice of you to say that, Tori, but you know I’m no good with that sappy stuff.”
> 
> “Sa-ans,” admonished Toriel, guiding his face upward with the light touch of a paw so that she could gaze into his eyesockets. “I know that you prefer to cultivate an air of self-deprecation but you need not affect to hide your numerous admirable qualities from me. I include ‘sappiness’ among those.” She bent down to kiss him. “I have loved you since your first bad joke. I am overjoyed that we found each other, Sans.”
> 
> “Gosh, Tori, me too.” He closed his eyesockets, relaxing in Toriel’s arms.

Twenty-seven minutes later Sans was finishing pulling his clothes back on, shrugging the blue hoodie onto his shoulders and looking around his disordered bedroom while waiting for Toriel to finish her shower in the bathroom down the hall. Both the bedroom and bathroom doors were open, so Sans had no trouble distinguishing the words of the song that she sang as she washed herself, her contralto voice with its crystalline-clear articulation resounding over the rush and splash of warm water cascading over her body.

> _The rain is falling through the mist of sorrow that surrounded me_
> 
> _The Sun could never thaw away the bliss that lays around me_
> 
> _Let it rain_
> 
> _Let it rain_
> 
> _Let your love rain down on me_
> 
> _Let it rain_
> 
> _Let it rain_
> 
> _Let it rain...rain...rain_

Sans smiled, his soul warming to Toriel’s music, although his smile faded a little when he surveyed the state of the room into which he had led his lover only two hours before. In their excitement and haste to shed their clothes and tumble into Sans’s bed neither of them had taken particular notice of the bedroom’s clutter or had even bothered to snap on a light, but now that the room was brightly illuminated Sans winced inwardly, wondering what Toriel would think of the dingy clothes heaped in the corners, the stacks of unshelved books and magazines, and the empty fast-food boxes and wrappers overflowing the long-neglected wastebasket. He made a mental note not to complain the next time Papyrus’s impatience with his brother’s slovenly habits drove him to clean Sans’s room for him.

Toriel finished her song and turned off the water. “Sans, I _must_ apologize,” she called out from the shower. “I fear that I may have shed rather more hairs into your bathtub than you would like. I have had to take special precautions in my own household for the...complications that my fur inadvertently creates.”

“Don’t worry about it, Tori,” Sans replied as he left the bedroom, heading for the bathroom. “A little fur down the drain isn’t going to ruin my night. But are you gonna have trouble drying all that fur off? I can get extra towels—oh. Wow.”

Sans stopped short in the open doorway to the bathroom, eyesockets open as wide as they could go, staring at Toriel in the bathtub. The shower curtain was open, revealing her nude figure as she stood erect in the center of the tub, arms and legs spread and her paws turned toward the ceiling, her brown eyes closed. A dozen flickering spheres of violet-tinged flame danced around her naked torso and limbs, their soft glow casting ever-changing shapes of purple light and shadow over every contour of her full-figured body. Little currents of warm air from the flames traced patterns through the texture of her pelt.

“Tori! What...” Sans said in a voice scarcely louder than a whisper, “...what are you doing?”

“Drying myself,” said Toriel in a serene murmur, not opening her eyes. “One of the many practical uses I have found for my fire-magic. It is rather pleasant to emerge from a shower warm and dry, instead of damp and smelling of wet goat for an hour afterwards.”

Sans took in a deep breath, inhaling the musky scent that pervaded the humid bathroom air. “But I like how you smell, Tori. It’s...I dunno, it’s a _comfortable_ smell.” Again he savored Toriel’s intriguing aroma, at once heavy and aromatic, a smell that struck deep chords in his soul. “Smells like...like _home._ ”

“Oh, Sans.” Toriel slowly lowered her arms to her sides, and her mage-fires dimmed and vanished. She stepped from the bathtub and came up to Sans, wrapping her arms around him and nuzzling the top of his skull. Sans returned the embrace and buried his face gratefully between her breasts, still slightly moist from her shower and redolent of her musk. “You can be uncommonly poetic for one who regards himself merely as a jester.”

Sans chuckled a little. “Nice of you to say that, Tori, but you know I’m no good with that sappy stuff.”

“Sa-ans,” admonished Toriel, guiding his face upward with the light touch of a paw so that she could gaze into his eyesockets. “I know that you prefer to cultivate an air of self-deprecation but you need not affect to hide your numerous admirable qualities from _me_. I include ‘sappiness’ among those.” She bent down to kiss him. “I have loved you since your first bad joke. I am overjoyed that we found each other, Sans.”

“Gosh, Tori, me too.” He closed his eyesockets, relaxing in Toriel’s arms.

“Now—” Toriel began to say, but she froze mid-sentence at the muffled sound of car doors slamming, followed by the rattling of the front doorknob. “Oh, dear! And I am still undressed! Quickly, Sans.” She released him from her embrace and strode to the bedroom, starting to look for where she had discarded her clothes. “Leave me here to dress and close the door. Tell the others that I will be out in a few minutes.”

“Sure thing, Tori.” He shut the bedroom door behind him as he hurried down the hall and back into the living room just as Papyrus and Frisk were bustling in through the front door. Frisk beamed and waved when they saw Sans approaching, while Papyrus grinned hugely and marched toward his brother, one arm outstretched in merry greeting and the other clutching a small paper sack.

“SANS!” cried Papyrus. “The ambassador and I had a marvelous time at the Highlands Mall! We saw a movie about a plastic toy man who dresses up like a bat and fights crime! Also I bought a new puzzle!” Standing proudly before Sans like a child standing in front of a class for show-and-tell Papyrus withdrew from the shopping bag a cardboard box labeled “Shengshou Cube” and “7 x 7 x 7”. “What do you think of it? Frisk says that it is some kind of mechanical puzzle where you scramble and unscramble the colors! How long do you suppose it will take me to learn solving it?” Suddenly Papyrus jerked his head up, scanning the living room. “Where is Lady Toriel?”

“Tori’ll be out in a couple minutes, Papyrus. She’s getting herself back together after taking a shower.”

“Oh, a shower! Did that take care of the overheating problem you told me she had?”

“Papyrus, I’ve been trying to tell you, it’s not _that_ kind of ‘heat’—” Sans began to explain, but he was interrupted by a melodious voice behind him. Sans turned toward its owner.

“Papyrus! Welcome back. I see that you have fulfilled your duty to chaperone my child and see them securely home. I am glad.” Toriel stood in the entrance to the hallway arrayed in her violet _ensemble_ , a warm light in her brown eyes, restored once more to the impeccable grace and poise that Sans had long admired.

“Yes, indeed, Lady Toriel!” Papyrus set his puzzle on the living-room table and bowed elaborately to his queen. “I have done as you asked, and I return your child the ambassador to your custody, safe and entertained. I am honored to have been of service.” Frisk covered their mouth with a hand, not wanting to spoil Papyrus’s moment with an impolite laugh.

“Thank you, my dear Papyrus. Now,” she went on, stepping into the living room and proceeding to Frisk’s side to lay a loving paw on their shoulder. “As thoroughly as I know I would enjoy spending further hours with you and your brother, my child and I must at last take our leave.”

Frisk tugged on their mother’s arm lightly to gain her attention then signed, _“Did you and Sans have a good time, Mom?”_

“We most certainly did, Frisk. A superb time.”

A grin tugged at the corners of Frisk’s mouth as they signed their next question. _“Will you need to be coming back here tomorrow?”_

“Will I need—oh.” Toriel put a paw to her muzzle to stifle a giggle. “Oh, dear, that is something for me to consider.”

“What needs considering, Tori?” asked Sans, slight bafflement in his voice.

“How—ahem—how shall I phrase this...” responded Toriel, releasing Frisk’s hand and dropping her eyes a little. “The, ah, natural cycling of my physiology that induced me...that is to say, this recurring period of heightened drive and sensitivity...it usually lasts for more than a day. Up to three, in fact.” After finishing her circumlocution Toriel raised her eyes again, looking almost shyly toward Sans. “I may wish to visit you again tomorrow. If you should be so inclined.”

“Tori.” He stepped up to his lover and took both her paws in his hands. “I’d be delighted to invite you back.”

A broad, relieved smile broke over Toriel’s face. “Thank you, Sans. I accept your invitation. I will come by myself this time, I think, and leave my child under the watchful eye of my former captain of the Guard. Probably they will have much gossip they wish to swap.”

Sans grinned and turned to Frisk, who was regarding the two of them with undisguised, wide-eyed devotion. “And thank _you,_ Frisk, for being an incurable little busybody. I’ve never seen you look happier.”

Frisk put their arms around the diminutive skeleton. “I’ve never seen _you_ look happier, Dad,” they whispered.

Sans blushed. “I didn’t think I had it in me. Guess I needed a smart kid like you to help me find it.”

“I love you,” Frisk whispered.

“Love you too, kiddo.” He touched his forehead to Frisk’s, feeling through the touch an echo of the joy that pulsed through the child’s young soul. “I can’t promise I’ll be a great dad but I’m gonna try my best. You can count on that.”

“I know, Dad.” Frisk squeezed him in one last hug before letting go and reaching for Toriel’s paw. _“Let’s go home, Mom,”_ they signed.

“Yes, let us return home.” Toriel led Frisk to the front door, turning about at the threshold to give the two brothers a final wave. “Good night, Papyrus. Good night, my lover. Soon we shall again be together.” She inclined her head respectfully to them and left their house, carefully shutting the door behind her.

Sans stared after her even as the door closed and the sounds of her and her child’s footfalls faded into silence. “G’nite, Tori,” he said to himself.

Papyrus came up beside him, slipping a bony arm around him with brotherly affection. “Sans, there’s something I want to you to know.”

“Hm? What’s that, bro?” Sans stirred from his reverie and looked up at Papyrus. The tall skeleton’s smile was softer than Sans was used to seeing, and the light in his eyesockets was warmer.

“Frisk is right. I’ve never seen you happier either. I’m...really, really delighted to see you this happy.”

“I know, Papyrus. I can feel it.” Sans hugged his brother, resting for some moments against his ribcage. “You try so hard to make me smile, don’t you, bro?”

Papyrus patted Sans’s back lightly. “I’m just doing what a good sibling is supposed to do, Sans.”

“Thanks, bro. For everything.” After several moments more Sans released Papyrus. “Wanna do anything before heading to bed, Papyrus? Watch some TV, play a game, anything?”

“Let us report to the couch for some television!” announced Papyrus, bounding into the living room and plopping himself down on the couch. “I could use some idleness right now. The young human is wonderful company but keeping up with their energy can be a little exhausting. In fact—” Papyrus slouched low in his seat on the couch and propped his long legs on the coffeetable.

Sans snorted with cheerful bemusement. “Whenever _I_ do that you get after me for bad manners.”

“Not tonight, Sans,” said Papyrus, unperturbed. “Tonight we may both violate household etiquette, together. Tomorrow, though, we go back to the old rules!”

“Tomorrow...” said Sans absently while he took his seat beside his brother and fumbled for the TV’s remote. “Oh, tomorrow! Geez, Papyrus, I guess I’ll be kicking you out of the house again for a while tomorrow, and without Frisk here to keep you company either...I’m sorry, bro. I’ll make it up to you.”

“Why should you ‘kick me out the house’, Sans? I was compelled to leave this evening only because Lady Toriel wished me to attend to the ambassador. Otherwise I would have stayed home.”

“Oh, um...” replied Sans as he began to channel-surf. “I’m not sure you’d want to be home with Tori and me, uh, together.”

“Do you fear that I will not allow you sufficient privacy? Sans, I _assure_ you, I will keep to my room and not disturb any of your activities.”

“Well, uh, Papyrus,” Sans went on, turning blue again. “I’m not sure what you’d think of the, er...the _activities_ we might be getting up to—”

Papyrus smiled and delivered himself of a merry laugh. “Oh, _Sans!_ Really you’re worrying over nothing! I promise you I won’t be a _bit_ embarrassed or uncomfortable if I happen to overhear you and Lady Toriel having sex.”

“That’s good.” Then with an abrupt clatter the remote slipped from Sans’s fingers to the tabletop. “Wait, _what_ did you say?!”

Papyrus’s manner was as unflapped as ever. “That’s why she’s coming back tomorrow, after all, isn’t it? She’s still in estrus, isn’t she? Of course you’ll be having more sex.”

“Still in es— _Papyrus!_ How do you know about that? Did Frisk end up explaining it to you?”

“There was no need, Sans! I already knew what it was.”

“Then what was with that ‘is she still overheated’ business?!”

Papyrus lazily drummed the arm of the couch with his bony fingertips. “It is my brotherly duty to make you smile, remember?”

“You—” Sans couldn’t finish his thought. He began to laugh, loudly and freely, slumping against his brother’s shoulder beside him and giving himself up to convulsions of mirth. Papyrus merely chuckled and slipped an arm around his brother, cradling him in a one-armed embrace.

“You really got me that time, bro,” Sans said at last as his laughter subsided. “You got me good.”

“I did, didn’t I?” said Papyrus. “I love you very much, Sans.”

“Papyrus, you’re the coolest brother ever.”

“Indeed I am. Shall we watch television now?”

“Sure thing, bro. You know what?” Sans handed the remote to Papyrus. “You get to choose what we watch. I don’t care if you end up want to watch two hours of the Weather Channel, I’ll watch whatever you want.”

“Why, thank you, Sans!” With a final smile at his brother, Papyrus settled himself in his seat and turned his attention to the screen.

 

FIN

 

Monophylos

14 October 2016

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And finally I've managed to negotiate this story, that started out as a mere diversion with an unserious title, to what I hope is a satisfying close. It's been quite a ride, and I had to undergo multiple crises of the spirit in order to finish what I had abandoned. But with those crises past, and my connexion to the source of my determination renewed, I commit this last chapter to publication with a sense of fulfillment and achievement.
> 
> I have never enjoyed writing any Undertale character as much as I have enjoyed writing Toriel. Perhaps I have taken some liberties with my interpretation of her, but I've been heartened by the responses I've received in particular about my depiction of her.
> 
> The song that she sings in the shower is, of course, Eric Clapton's "Let It Rain". I wanted something that was at least reminiscent of "It's Raining Somewhere Else", the tune that I have come to think of as representative of Toriel and Sans together.
> 
> Will I be returning to Soriel? Very possibly. I do have some ideas in mind for following up on this story, but they are probably some months away at least. I have more important matters that require my attention: Alphys and Undyne, and Chara and Asriel.
> 
> Thanks, again, for reading. Under Her mercy,
> 
> Monophylos


End file.
